


Reasons We Love You

by writingmyself



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Abuse Mentions, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - College/University, Artist Zayn, Baker Harry, Bottom Zayn, Coffee, Dom/sub Undertones, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Firefighter Liam, Firefighter Louis, I'll add more as I go, Innocent Zayn, Insecure Zayn, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mafia AU, Mafia!Ziam, Pool Table Sex, Sad Zayn, Sexual Tension, Shy Zayn, Songfic, Top Harry, Top Liam, Top Louis, Top Niall, University Student Zayn, Zayn-centric, bottom zayn needs more love okay, harry's lame sense of humor, i dont know what im doing, smart zayn, sorry zayn is strictly a bottom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 17:08:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 37,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6814675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingmyself/pseuds/writingmyself
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>basically, just a whole bunch of bottom!zayn prompts that i've had stuck in my head where the boys show zayn how much they love him. i'm sorry but zayn will always be a bottom in my opinion, so this is kinda for my own self indulgence but i thought i'd share with you too! oh and i do take requests so if there are any ideas you would like me to write about please let me know!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. with coffee

**Author's Note:**

> Zayn takes his coffee sugary, with extra cream and a dose of cinnamon and honey but lately he's only had plain black. Something's off.

Harry looks up from where he was cleaning up the last of the day’s mess, his coffee shop empty, the dim lighting almost golden with the dark mist of the cold evening outside. He wipes the counter, cleaning the last cup and deciding to make himself a pot (it is his business after all) when the door chimed open, and a gust of wind blowing in. Harry turns to see a young man, huddled in a black coat that’s obviously too big for him. He had messy, short, yet thick raven hair, that match a pot of freshly brewed black coffee, and skin the color of caramel. The lad closes the door and shuffles forward.

 

“Hey mate, I'm just about to close up,” Harry says apologetically, and he really is sorry. The kid looks as though he could use something warm to drink with his flushed cheeks (fuck those cheekbones make Harry’s knees weak) and the way he’s wrapped up, black coat, thick purple scarf, boots (that obviously didn’t belong to him) on his feet.

 

“Sorry,” he says immediately, stepping away from the counter. His accent is thick, unique; warm like honey. “Right, I should have read the sign.” he juts his finger to the window and Harry smiles gently.

 

“It's alright, the sign out there's old, probably couldn't read it-”

 

“It was my fault." The young man insists, pulling his coat tighter around him. “Goodby-”

 

“Kid, I was just about to make myself some,” he points to the coffee pot. “I could make you a pot?”

 

“I uh..." he awkwardly scratches at the stubble decorating his sharp jawline. The nameless boy pulls open the door of the coffee shop, bell chiming, cold wind whipping in and disturbing the clean silence, “I don't have any money.”

 

Don't have any money? Who walks into a coffee shop without any money? “You don't have to pay,” he states kindly. “You look like you're gonna freeze to death, mate, sit down, let me make you some coffee-”

 

“I really have to go.” And he doesn’t give Harry a chance to say anything else, before disappearing out of the door. Harry stands there, stumped for a few moments, before shrugging it off, making himself some coffee and locking up.

…

The next time he sees the lanky kid is in the middle of the day, the shop is full, but there is no queue, and then in walks the boy- actually more like dragged in by a blonde bloke with fire in his blue eyes.

 

“Morning,” Harry smiles, “What can I get you?”

 

“I'll take a muffin," The blonde returns the gesture, his Irish accent heavy, and the brunette nods, typing it into the register. “Zayn?”

 

“I'm not hungry, Ni.” The lad, Zayn, sighs softly.

 

And Harry frowns when he notices the kid is in the same scarf and black coat. It must have been boiling, even with the air conditioning on full blast the sun is shining brightly and the coffee shop still has to have all their windows open.

 

“Zed,” he seems annoyed, yet concerned. “At least get something to drink-”

 

“I told you," his voice dropping, and Harry strains to hear. “I don't have any money, and I'm not letting you pay for me Niall.”

 

Niall squares his shoulders, eyes narrowing. “You do have money, you just let that asshole keep it all from you.” he turns back to Harry, who smiles reassuringly, "Just the muffin, then."

 

Harry nods once again, handing him one of the largest they had, and reluctantly taking his money. He watches the blonde coax dark skinned lad to sit beside him at one of the few spare tables, and they chat- mostly tersely Harry notices, before the ravenette ups and leaves. Niall sits there, angry, before he too leaves.

 

Louis, his co-worker, touches Harry's shoulder, “You alright, Haz? Need some help at the counter?”

 

“No thanks, don't worry,” he shoots his friend a grin. “Just distracted.”

...

The next time the curly haired man sees him, it’s later that day. Again, in the late evening, when there is no one else around and Harry is moments away before locking up, the bell chimes, and in comes Zayn with a pair of top-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, though a bit askew. He seems pleased with himself, dressed in the large black coat and thick purple scarf, and bounds up the counter, gently dropping seventy-five cents onto the surface. Harry smiles, because the boy’s pleasure is contagious. Seventy-five cents; it’s just enough for a plain, black coffee, the cheapest thing on the menu.

 

He slides the money off, and pours the coffee wordlessly, filling it a little higher than he normally does, and hands it over to the dark haired lad. Zayn takes it eagerly, welcoming the warmth it brings. Sitting at one of the empty tables beside the wall, he sips it, quickly, as though it was the most delicious thing he's ever had in his whole life.

 

“What's your name?” Harry asks, wiping down the counter. He already knew the bloke’s name, but he figures it was a good way to start the conversation. The kid looks up, swallowing.

“Zayn.”

 

“I'm Harry Styles,” he says gently “Why do you come here so late?”

 

“Does it bother you?” Zayn asks quickly, looking up with wide amber eyes. Fuck, his eyes are just as gorgeous as the rest of him. “I can stop-”

 

“No, no,” Harry soothes, slightly worried at the lad’s instinctual reaction. “I like the company actually, I just...I was just wondering.”

 

“Eleven’s the only time my boyfriend is out." Zayn mutters softly, finishing the coffee, and Harry watches him curiously. The kid continues, "Every day like clockwork, eleven to twelve is when he’s gone, always."

 

Harry frowns, chuckling in confusion. “And you can only get coffee when he's out?”

 

Zayn looks up to meet his eyes behind thick lashes, and Harry feels like the breath is sucked out of his lungs, "Yes."

 

Harry believes him.

...

It continues that way for a long time. Zayn will come in every day at eleven at night, always with seventy-five cents, buy a plain coffee, and drink it quickly yet savoring each drop. Eventually, the barista gets him to open up, to talk more. For instance, he learns Zayn loves art, which explains the paint splatters on his jeans and pen stains on his finger tips, and used to major in English (and Harry almost coos at that because he can totally see Zayn as a bookworm, curled up on a couch with his cute too-big glasses hanging off his nose and a thick book).

 

The more Zayn tells, the fonder Harry grows; but Harry also becomes more concerned with what Zayn reveals as well. It’s about eight weeks later, Zayn sipping his coffee and Harry sitting opposite him, nursing his own cuppa. They're chatting about Frank Ocean, well, Harry was doing the talking but the Pakistani boy is listening as though it’s the most interesting thing he's ever heard in his life. Like he's never been taught about musicians, which looking at him, Harry could understand, the lad is quite underprivileged.

 

“Zee,” he starts quietly, eventually, using the nickname he’s grown accustomed to calling the boy. “Would you do me a favour and take off your coat?”

 

Zayn smiles wryly, as though he's been anticipating it, and he swallows thickly. “I figured this would come up, it’s amazing that you waited as long as you have, respected my privacy,” his eyes watered slightly, “You've done so much for me, really Hazza.”

 

And that breaks Harry’s heart, because he hasn't. He hasn't done that much for the kid except be a decent human being; talking to him, asking how his day was and about his job, and maybe feed him a bit too strong coffee. If the bloke thinks being humane is something amazing, well, Harry almost doesn't want to know how he is being treated outside the shop. _Almost_.

 

“Just know that they're never permanent. They always fade, and so he makes new ones.” Zayn pulls off his coat and his scarf to reveal a beige shirt, the sleeves rolled up and the collar cut and stretched, and Harry can see why.

 

Bruises littered the angelic boy’s tanned skin, dark and blue and purple, others deep and harsh and bright red. It’s obvious that the fabric irritates them. Blood stains the front of the shirt, but Zayn doesn’t even seem to notice. There are fingerprints around Zayn’s neck and it makes Harry so angry to see the perfect caramel skin tainted like that. Harry can also see the many tattoos scattered amongst the boy’s lithe body, as if he uses the ink to hide the ugly marks and instead decorate his skin with something beautiful. And beautiful the designs were.

 

“Who-” he’s seething, voice lower and primal but the other stops him.

 

“Harry,” Zayn smiles, doing up his coat and pulling on his scarf, but the smile is pained and rehearsed (it makes Harry wonder how many times he practiced to perfect it). “Let's not ruin this,” he traces the rim of the coffee cup, “I should go.”

 

“Zee-”

 

“I'll be back tomorrow.” It sounds like an empty promise.

...

Zayn isn't back tomorrow. Harry's fingers dig into the counter, glaring at the clock and then out of the window. 11:10pm. Zayn has never been late, ever, and part of the brunette fears that he's scared the lad off- but then the door chimes, and there’s a thud. Harry rushes forward, the boy having collapsed onto the floor, his coat not even properly done up, and the bruises around his neck darker than usual.

 

“Zayn!” He tries, listening for breathing, and he phones an ambulance as he performs CPR.

 

He is allowed to sit in the emergency room, and upon reaching the hospital he begs them not to call his emergency contact. Thankfully, for some reason or another, the nurses listen to him.

 

Zayn is fine in the end, waking up when they reach the hospital, and Harry sits there while Zayn lies to the doctors. “How did you get all these injuries?”

 

“I fell,” he manages through a small smile. “I'm quite clumsy, really.” The doctor shoots a look at Harry, who only looks away trying to push down his guilt. And when they leave the hospital, Harry literally begs him.

 

“Don't go back to him,” he whispers, brushing Zayn’s hair out of his face as they stand in the cold outside the hospital. Zayn leans into his touch, as though he hasn't had comforting contact in his whole life. “Come stay with me, I have a big apartment, a spare bedroom- it's got your name on it Zee." Harry doesn't say that his own bed also has Zayn’s name on it, because he knows the younger male isn't ready for that.

 

“You don't understand,” the shorter boy says weakly, “Liam, he…he doesn't always mean it,” he trails his hands over the numerous bandages, as if he knows they're temporary.

 

Zayn knows when he gets home Liam will rip them off, yell at him for going to the hospital. And then, hours later, he also knows that Liam will crawl into bed, and kiss every scar, whispering how sorry he is with wet, brown, puppy dog eyes. He’ll say he'll give Zayn a whole dollar to spend tomorrow, and Zayn will cry, in pain, and in gratitude.

 

“Don't make me leave him. I'm not strong enough.” The ravenette sees Harry open his mouth to argue, so he continues. “Not yet. But, maybe…soon…”

 

And Harry has to watch him limp away.

 

Zayn comes in the next evening, bandages gone, but no fresh bruises.

...

Three weeks later, it's the day after Harry told Zayn he loved him, and the latter whispered it back, so quietly, as though he were afraid someone would hear him and string him up for it. Harry again begged Zayn to leave, and Zayn, again, begged the barista to give him more time. And well, Harry never could deny him.

 

But today is the day, that in the morning, Zayn walks into the coffee shop, large black coat, too big boots, and purple scarf. A taller man is with him, about the same size as Harry, but he is a bit tanner, with bulging muscles and brown eyes and hair. He has one armed wrapped so tightly around Zayn’s shoulders it makes even Harry wince and the petite lad is shaking. Visibly shaking. The coffee shop owner knows this is Liam, and he can't even feel relief at putting a name to the face.

 

“What can I get you?” he asks tightly, forcing a smile. Zayn doesn't look up, his eyes trained on the ground, like a trained puppy, Harry briefly thinks. The thought makes him seethe.

 

“I'll uh…” Liam glances up at the menu, “I'll take a hot roll with extra sauce, pork filling.” It's the most expensive thing on the menu.

 

Which isn’t even that much, at €11.50, but it makes Harry inexplicably angry, that Zayn comes in with the exact change to buy the cheapest thing on the menu and he doesn’t think twice about ordering the highest valued meal. Not to mention Harry knows Zayn is Muslim and pork is forbidden in their religion.

 

“Sure thing,” Harry tolls it up, and watches as Liam elbows Zayn roughly in the ribs.

 

“Don't be thick, baby,” he sings patronizingly, and Harry _really_ wants to rip this guy a new one because Zayn’s the smartest person he knows. He watches Liam’s bulging arm tighten around the younger. “Tell the man your order.”

 

Zayn swallows thickly, looking up at the menu. “C-Could I have a coffee with cream, p-please?” And that's the second cheapest thing on the menu.

 

“Sure th-” Harry begins, before he's cut off by Liam, just as he begins to total it up.

 

“You'll get fat, baby.” He states simply, and Harry stills, hands pausing over the number pad “Who'll want you if you're fat?”

 

Zayn seems to shrink, looking down at his shoes as he mumbles thickly. "Could you make that just a plain coffee, p-please?"

 

Harry nods, typing it up, and Liam grins at Harry, as though they're on the same side,“Women huh? Just can't make up their minds.”

 

“Doesn't look much like a woman to me,” Harry says stiffly, pouring their order. Liam laughs easily, it makes Harry clench his fists to keep from punching his perfect face.

 

“Trust me. He is. Aren't you, Zaynie?” he chimes, and Zayn looks up obediently, eyes watering ever so slightly. “Aren't you a good little girl?”

 

“I'm a girl.” his voice cracks, just barely above a whisper.

 

“See?” Liam laughs, “Beautiful.” he ruffles Zayn's, now blonde, hair, and the kid leans into the touch like he's been trained too. “Thanks man,” he grins as Harry hands over their order, giving Harry a big tip, but that just makes the handsome, curly-haired man hate him more. “What do you say to…” he peers at Harry's apron, “Harry, Zaynie?”

 

Zayn looks up, he doesn't even have his coffee, Liam has the cup in his very firm grasp. Zayn swallows heavily, sparkling honey eyes meeting his. “Thank you, Harry.”

 

“It's fine-”

 

“No, it's not fine,” Liam interrupts, anger leaking into his voice “What are you thanking him for Zayn?”

 

Zayn’s shaking again, but he goes to correct his mistake quickly. “T-th-thank-” his breath hitches in a frustration at his own inability to get words out due to Liam’s look of disgust. “Thank you for the c-cof-” Zayn’s hair is abruptly tugged, harshly, and the steaming coffee spills over the rim of the cup onto his hands, splashing just high enough to hit his cheek, causing him to hiss in pain.

 

Harry is a second away from shouting, when Liam leaps forward. “Shit! Zaynie, sweetheart, are you alright?”

 

Harry's winded by the change in personality, and it's like he's looking at a new person as this Liam cleans up Zayn's coat and hands, whispering apologies and terms of endearments into his ears.

 

Liam runs his fingers through Zayn's silky locks "Are you alright, gorgeous?" Zayn nods, cheeks flushing slightly as Liam hooks his arm over Zayn's shoulders, this time lovingly, not tight like it was when the couple first walked in.

 

“Sorry about that, Harry,” he sighs, looking up at the menu “Could you get him an extra large coffee, with sugar, whipped cream, cinnamon, and honey drizzle?” He turns to Zayn, kisses his forehead, thumb rubbing in circular motions on his shoulder. “How's that sound baby?”

 

“G-Good,” Zayn whispers, nuzzling into Liam's arm with fear.

 

“Anything else? You can have anything you want.” Zayn shakes his head, and Liam pays, apologizing for the mess, and the barista watches the two of them leave.

 

He understands now; why Zayn finds it so hard to leave. Because he won't just be leaving an abusive partner, he'll also be leaving a loving boyfriend. It's just that one happens to appear way more than the other.

...

Zayn comes to the coffee shop that night, and he's smiling. "Hey Hazza," he says softly after the chime of the door, coming in, and helping the tall barista clear up the last of the cups.

 

“Hey pretty boy,” Harry chuckles, something warm in his chest as he see’s Zayn’s smile.

 

“I never meant for you to…” he shakes his head, “I never meant for you to see me like that. With him, I mean, like, I never wanted that.”

 

“I understand, Zee,” he says quietly, and Zayn beams, the cute grin with his tongue pressed against the back of the teeth (something only Harry can make him do these days), rocking on the balls of his feet. Harry can't help but wonder about the kid’s sanity. “Why so pleased?”

 

“Liam got arrested. He started assaulting this police officer. He's in jail and-" he pauses, shooting Harry another bright grin. "I'm not posting bail."

 

Harry looked at him, before a grin spread across his face, the air in his lung pushing out of him. “Really?” He burst out laughing, setting down the cloth and cup. "You’re serious, babe?"

 

Zayn nods, giggling like a little school girl, and is engulfed in a tight hug by Harry, who lifts him up, kissing him passionately.

...

“I got you something,” Harry sighs in contentment, as they’re tangled with each other on the bed, three months later. Zayn’s stuff is all in Harry’s apartment, and Liam continuously assaults guard after guard in prison, just adding years on.

 

“You've given me enough,” Zayn murmurs, his skin now clear of any marks, Harry spent time healing each one, kissing them every night and leaving love marks instead. Harry's given him everything. He even got his friend Nick, to get all the money that Liam had taken from his account.

 

Harry kisses Zayn’s bleached hair, rolling out of bed, and the boy whines in protest, cuddling into Harry’s warm spot as he leaves the bedroom. Moments later, the tall lad comes back with bags full of clothes. Zayn sits up with a lazy grin.

 

“Wow, clothes? Awesome.” And his sarcasm is only teasing, so Harry rolls his eyes, pulling out shirt after shirt, some striped, some graphic, some silk because Zayn’s skin is sensitive. He brings out skinny jeans, shorts, and belts, followed by numerous jumpers and flannels and a beige trench coat that looked soft to the touch.. He also opens two shoes boxes, one pair of black high-top Converse and a pair of black Doc Martens (ones that would actually fit Zayn). And the more he lays on the bed around, the more nervous Zayn becomes.

 

Finally, Harry take out four bags of art supplies. Two are filled to the brim with a variety of paints; watercolour, acrylic, oil, even spray paints. The third bag is filled with different calligraphy pens and more brushes then Zayn dares to count, and the last one is quite large and protruding, Harry opening it to reveal three canvases, one black and the others white.

 

"Harry," he whispers, crossing his legs as he takes in everything on the bed. It's an entire wardrobe and enough supplies to make any artist jealous.

 

"And this!" Harry beams, bringing out another bag, and in it, a black leather jacket, crisp and fresh with a smell that tells Zayn just how authentic it is. “I had it tailor made-”

 

“Harry.” The artificial blonde whispers, more firmly this time, shaking his head. “You have to take it all back.”

 

And that gets Harry attention, “What?”

 

Zayn shakes his head, “I'm not accepting this. How much did it all cost?”

 

Harry doesn't falter, "A couple of thousand."

 

“A coupl- no, take it back." he huffs out, honey eyes wide in disbelief. “You've spent enough on me-”

 

“Zayn, you don't have clothes that fit,” Harry whispers, “He forced you to wear his old, torn clothes, made you wear his too big, rotten boots.” he runs his hand through his unkempt chestnut curls. “I want you to find a style that suits you. I want you to have your own clothes, I even got you a few cardigans-”

 

Zayn swallows thickly, his voice barely above a breath, “You have to take it back, Haz.”

 

“Why?” Harry asks, suddenly beside the shorter boy. “Tell me why.”

 

“Because it'll hurt,” Zayn chokes out, tears in his eyes as Harry instantly wraps his strong arms around his boyfriend and pulls him in for a hug. “It'll hurt even more. I-If I make you angry, knowing that you spent all this money, you'll only hit me harder-”

 

“Woah! Woah, Zee!" Harry pulls back, gripping the younger boy by his shoulders, looking into his eyes. “I've known you for almost a year, and I have never hit you, have I? And I will never hit you, ever.”

 

“I knew Liam for three years before he ever hit me.” Zayn tries.

 

“I won't.”  Harry states firmly, his emerald eyes never leaving hazel one's. “And I know deep in your heart, you know that.”

 

Zayn breathes out. He does know. He just wanted to hear it.

...

Four months later, the door chimes in the middle of the day and Harry looks up from the customer he's serving to see his boyfriend. He finishes with the customer and grins as Zayn stand on his toes to lean over the counter and claim a triumphant kiss. He's dressed in an olive green shirt, collar loose around his neck with ‘DON'T THINK TWICE’ printed across the front, tight jeans, the shirt tucked in at the front, and the leather jacket looks fantastic on him. He's wearing his favourite black Docs, and he's beaming. “I'm taking it that you aced the exam?”

 

After some discussion, and a bit of arguing on Zayn's part, the younger agreed to let Harry pay for college tuition, but only if Zayn could pay for the books, so that he could finish getting his degree in English. He is also majoring in art, still deciding between becoming a World Lit. professor or an artist.

 

"Damn straight." Zayn grins, tongue pressing against the back of his teeth, tapping the glass over a slice of cake, and Harry rolls his eyes but brings it out anyways. Zayn takes a large bite, getting pink icing on his lip, humming in bliss at the sweet taste.

 

Harry chuckles fondly, “Eating cake in the middle of the day, Malik?” But it's the wrong thing to say.

 

The kid stiffens, and his gold eyes flicker down to the ground, and he sets the cake on the counter, licking his lips “Sorry.”

 

_Shit,_ Harry curses himself briefly, rushing to correct himself. “No- pretty boy-”

 

“No you're right,” Zayn nods, “I'm gaining weight as it is.”

 

And he is gaining weight. Because he was damn near anorexic before, and Harry's pretty sure Liam starved Zayn as punishment. The university student was just starting to look lithe and lean, not skeletal.

 

“Zee. It was a joke, babe,” he says softly, “If anything, you need to gain more weight-”

 

“A joke?” Zayn frowns, tilting his head to the side. And dammit, does he even realize how cute he is? “I don't understand.” he's flushing, shifting awkwardly, but he's not stuttering. And that fills Harry with a blissful pride.

 

“Zaynie, you just rocked a lecture, and if you want to celebrate by eating cake, I'll let you eat cake all day,” he breaks off a piece of Zayn's slice, holding it up to the boy’s full lips, and Zayn takes it from his fingertips carefully, licking his lips after to catch any excess frosting. “Tell me about that book you're reading."

 

Zayn can't help but grin at the opportunity to share knowledge, because it was something Liam never let him do, something about hating people who were smarter than him.

 

“Fahrenheit 451? It’s written by Ray Bradbury, very talented author actually. Did you know he’s a descendant of one of the Salem witches? He’s descended from Mary Perkins Bradbury, who was sentenced to be hanged in 1692 but managed to escape before her execution could take place. And Fahrenheit 451 wasn't actually the original title of the book, it was _The Fireman,_ but his publishers though that was boring so Bradbury called a fire station and asked them what temperature paper burned at. The firemen put him on hold while they burned a book, then reported the temperature, and the rest is history.” Zayn chuckles, whiskey coloured eyes alight from fascination and excitement.

 

Harry beams, proud of his boyfriend, still blown away by his intelligence. “That's my boy, now eat." he presses the cake towards Zayn, who picks it up, though keeps his eyes carefully on the talk shop owner.

 

“Love you,” he murmurs, and Harry knows he's not meant to hear it. But he replies anyway, “Love you too, pretty boy.” 

 

Harry is not going to lie, it's difficult, and sometimes the things he says trigger flashbacks. And sometimes Zayn finds it hard to show Harry how much he loves him, but they get through it. They get through every fight and argument, about something as important as whether or not they should get married, to whether or not they should repaint the bedroom walls. They get through it.

With coffee.


	2. with a halo over your head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zayngel.
> 
> ps. Liam and Zayn have an established relationship in this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for any grammatical errors!

"Zayn..." Liam whispers, falling to his knees, as has the rest of the band, in shock. In awe.

 

There, on the raven haired boy’s back are glorious, giant, angel like wings. They have a hazel-gold tint to them and seem to be attached to Zayn's spine. Last night, Niall had gotten a call from Zayn and, still hurt from his sudden departure, didn’t answer. But when the phone stopped ringing, the blonde heard the voice mailbox beep, followed by the older boy’s voice. He was sobbing, apologizing more times than Niall could count and promising he would explain everything, the real reason he left, if he brought the rest of the boy’s to some meadow.

 

He was reluctant at first, but after a bit of arguing (both with himself and the other lads) they went to the location Zayn provided them with. When the band members arrived, they saw the dark skinned boy in the middle of the field, he was nervous, stuttering over his words and never meeting their eyes. He explained that he and his bloodline aren’t entirely human, that when a member of his family reaches the age of twenty-one, they get a pair of wings. Louis had scoffed, calling his insane while Harry asked why they should believe him.

 

And now he stands there in the centre of the meadow, in front of them, wearing only his black skinny jeans, his bare, slightly muscled torso glistening in the sunlight. He's kept them hunched in he explains, tucked behind his sweaters and leather jackets, and they seem to disappear beneath his clothes quite nicely, none of them would have guessed. But now, they expand two metres out from each shoulder, and they're beautiful, breath taking really.

 

"After management found out, well, they weren’t like, too happy about it because sometimes I can’t control when the wings unfold. Just one more complication that set me apart from you lot, yeah? So they said I two choices, either leave the band or get the surgery.” Zayn shudders, gripping his left arm. “The surgery risks a 97% chance of paralysis so...I had to leave.” He finishes quietly.

 

It’s silent for a few moments, not that he blames them because, well, finding out your former band mate and friend has wings is not exactly an everyday conversation. He waits a few more minutes, is almost convinced that some of them have left, probably repulsed or freaked out, but then Niall speaks up.

 

“How do they work, like,” He swallows, “How do you control them?”

 

“They appear to respond to my movement," Zayn explains, "But, they have their own reflex like, uh, Harry, throw that stick at them."

 

Harry picks up the stick, giving a tentative throw, and the wings shield themselves around Zayn instinctively, protecting him. "Oh wow," He stands up, heading towards the Bradford lad, the bravest of them all. "Can I?"  

 

Zayn nods, his black hair an artful mess on his head as Harry touches one of his wings, impossibly soft. He strokes it downwards, smoothing out the feathers and Zayn shakes, relaxing into the tall singer’s touch. "What does it feel like?" He asks.

 

"Like, someone ruffling my hair, or nudging my shoulder. Completely normal. Fine." The older gives a small laugh with Harry, and then he turns to the rest of the boys. "Do you think you guys will...ever get used to seeing me like this?"

 

They get up hastily, heading towards him, smiling reassuringly. "Sorry bro," Louis murmurs with a small smile, "We should embrace it. Just another thing that makes you Zayn," The words make the former band member smile.

 

He turns to Liam, slightly unsure, because the toned brunette hasn't made love to Zayn since he told Liam about them (though he never worked up the courage to show him). Kissed him, lived with him, treated him the same, aside from, well, Zayn has to face facts, that they could be a turn off.

 

"I've been uh," He flushes, and they all see his neck go red too. "Trying to, ah, f-fly?"

 

"Can you?" Harry asks eagerly. Zayn half nods, shy, and steps back, taking a deep breath, and then, seemingly effortless, hovers above the ground. But only a few inches. "What is it like?"

 

"S’sorta like walking, but upwards.” He laughs, "I can..."

 

He couldn't find the words, so instead gives a big flutter, and soars high up into the air, gliding and flying around the meadow, twirling and tumbling, and doing tricks. It feels freeing. Oddly freeing, actually. And by the time he's down again, short hair windswept, everyone's beaming at him, because if he can embrace it, then of course they can too. But Liam just shakes his head, and gets back in his car, and drives away.

 

Zayn watches him leave, trying to catch his breath, and he hastily tucks his wings back down, pulling on a shirt quickly. "Zayn-" Niall tries, but he cuts him off with a small smile

 

"No uh, that was s-stupid of me. It's probably really weird and disgusting-"

 

"Zayn," Louis's hand catches his wrist. "It was amazing. And if he can't see that then he's not worth it, mate."

 

Zayn looks down, pulling on his jacket wordlessly. "I'm sorry." He says again.

...

When Zayn gets home that night, Liam is on the sofa, waiting for him. Zayn just stands there, leaning against the closed door, and Liam stares right back. But Zayn can't take it.

 

"You haven't slept with me in three months." He whispers, not meaning for it to sound as needy as it did. "Am I..." He looks up at the ceiling, "God I know I'm not the most- fuck Liam, I've never been the most attractive person, but you..." his voice dips into a whisper. "You seemed to think so, is this- are they-" He motions to the wings that are hidden, "Unattractive to you? Or is that I'm now a test subject? What's wrong?"

 

He wants to fight, and to be strong, but instead he's sliding down the door, tears falling. "Just tell me what you want me to do and I'll do it." He pleads, and Liam locks his jaw, rubbing his eyes to keep from crying. "Anything you want, I'll do it- just say, please-"

 

"Zayn-"

 

"Do you want them gone?" Zayn whispers, looking up at Liam as the younger moves to now stood in front of him. "I'll do the surgery if you want it-"

 

Liam swallows, "The surgery is a 97% chance you'll become paralyzed."

 

"Don't care." Zayn murmurs, hands flying to Liam's zipper, as he unbuttons his jeans "Whatever you want-"

 

Liam cringes at how wrong Zayn sounds. And stifles a groan as he feels Zayn’s warm hand wrap around his dick. He only just manages to pull away, prying Zayn's wrists away, and he looks down to see Zayn properly crying.

 

"Zayn," He whispers, sinking down to his knees too, and cups Zayn's face. "You know why I haven't slept with you for three months?" Zayn sniffles, but says nothing. "Because I find you so attractive."

 

Zayn looks up at him, confusion covering his face, before muttering, "That sounds counter intuitive."

 

Liam laughs, but it's strained, "Zayn please," He forces the Pakistani to look him in the eyes. "I've always found you attractive, fuck you make me hot baby, but when I saw you with your wings, it was like off the scale. All I wanted to do was fuck you in front of everyone, with those magnificent golden feathers haloing you. But," He shakes his head. "That thought terrified me. I thought I was fucking freak for wanting you like that."

 

"You're the freak?" Zayn whispers.

 

Liam ignores him, "Not to mention that Modest practically forced you to leave when they found out about your wings! I thought you might need time and, just, like being around you and- god." He looks up at the ceiling, "I want you more than anything, angel."

 

Zayn half smiles at the irony of the nickname, "Really?" Liam nods, and then Zayn punches him hard in the shoulder, and the brunette cries out in surprise, because shit- Zayn can pack quite the punch. "That's for not telling me, you doughnut."

 

Liam laughs, pulling the boy from the floor, wasting no time as he lifts Zayn up. The smaller lad’s leg wrap around his waist, back hitting the wall before he knows it and Liam uses the gasp that escapes those rosy lips to kiss Zayn deeply, tongue snaking into his mouth easily. Zayn unfolds his wings, not caring about the fact he just ripped his shirt and jacket, and cocoons both them around Liam, hiding them both from the eyes of the world and encasing their shared body heats.

 

The younger pulls back suddenly, brown hair disheveled from Zayn running his hands through it and chocolate eyes twinkling with happiness. "Guess this means I can call you my wingman." Liam laughs, reaching up to ruffle the silky feathers gently.

 

Zayn rolls his eyes, but the nickname sticks. And he can't help but smile when Liam whispers it to him while they have their first dance a year later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good, or no? I hope you enjoyed!


	3. bit by bit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zayn doesn't know what they are or how it happened, but he likes it.
> 
> or one where Zayn is a model and Louis is his photographer and they fall in love bit by bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any grammatical errors! Please enjoy!

Zayn didn't know.

 

That was a rarity in itself because well, Zayn knew just about everything. But ever since his mother had asked him the question, when he was talking about Louis, "Are you two dating?" And Zayn had sat there, completely stumped. He didn't know. So he walked into work that Monday morning, determined to find out.

 

"Morning, Pretty Boy," Louis grinned, handing him a coffee. The model had to resist rolling his eyes at the nickname, something Louis decided to call him due to his career. He was sitting on Zayn’s make-up station, camera in hand, and waiting for him? "I got you your favourite.”

 

Zayn took a small sip, and smiled wildly, it was his favourite. His exact favourite; dark but sweet. "T-Thanks," he flushed, which just made Louis smile wider.

 

He sat in his chair and looked up at the tan skinned photographer, "I uh-" The dark haired boy took a deep breath, tried to soothe himself. He had to figure this out. "I heard Captain America: Civil War is coming out today, I was thinking about going to see it, wanna go?"

 

Louis frowned thoughtfully, nodding. "Yeah sure, babe. I'll pick you up."

 

"Louis," Liam, Zayn’s stylist, cut in, looking confused. "You hate comics or anything superhero related." Zayn smiled to himself, that was definitely a tally on the dating side. "Why on earth would you go to see a movie centred around it?"

 

His answer was smooth and flawless, "Because it doesn't hurt to try new things, Payne," he touched his shoulder, "Think about it sometime."

 

Okay, so he had agreed. Zayn thought back to their previous interactions; he and Louis always arrived at publicity events, and when he was tired, Louis would drive him home, sometimes walk up to his apartment just to make sure he was okay. They spent a lot of time together outside work, Zayn at Louis’ football games, Louis at his museums, both looking ridiculously out of place, but not caring. Zayn frowned, they'd never...they'd never talked about anything. They just let it happen, let their relationship progress from Louis being his photographer, to being friends, to being...closer friends?

 

"That movie sucked." Louis stated as they walked out into the cold night, it was about a 15 minute walk home, and Zayn wished he'd brought a coat. "Like seriously- did you like it?"

 

"There were an incredible amount of inaccuracies compared to the comics but the humor and music choice made up for it."

 

"You didn't love it for once!" Louis cheered victoriously, wrapping his arm around Zayn, only to feel how cold the boy was. "Shit Zaynie- here," he started pulling off his coat, but Zayn stopped him.

 

"You'll be cold then. I'm fine, it's just taking my body longer than normal to-" he was cut off when he felt his arms being pushed into the sleeves of a too big leather jacket, and he could feel himself immediately surrounded by Louis's scent, his warmth.

 

"I don't know where you were going with that, but shut up and take the jacket." the sandy haired man sighed, wrapping his arm around Zayn again, and they continued walking to Zayn's apartment.

 

Zayn couldn't fight the flush that crept up his cheeks, especially when Louis's hands started tracing circles on his shoulder. He was never good with physical contact, so he didn't understand why he wasn't shying away from this with all he was worth.

 

When they got up to the apartment, Zayn offered Louis the bed, and he could sleep on the couch, but Louis just pinned him against the kitchen counter, and kissed him- hard. Lips claiming and rough, too much teeth and tongue, drawing something primal from Zayn, who while not experienced, was just perfect to Louis. They stumbled into the bedroom, and fell asleep in each other’s arms.

 

In the morning, they didn't talk about it, just had breakfast together. This was just another development in their relationship. Louis drove them to work, not before stopping for coffee, and shot thousands of photos of Zayn. Like always.

 

And it happened again, and again. They would end up Zayn's apartment, kiss and claw at each other- but the furthest they ever got was pulling off their shirts, Zayn was always reluctant to take his off not because he was unsure of himself, but because he was unsure of them, of what they were. But then Louis would turn uncertainty into embarrassment as he whispered all the things he wanted do to Zayn, as he ran his nails over Zayn's sides.

 

And a few weeks later, Zayn found Louis's toothbrush in his bathroom. He immediately picked it up, and headed back to the bedroom, where Louis was sitting up in bed, playing on his phone. He looked up, and saw the toothbrush, stiffening "Shit- Zayn, listen, don't freak ou-"

 

"Why would I freak out?" Zayn asked curiously, "I just wanted to tell you that keeping a toothbrush within a metre of the bathroom actually increases the amount of bacteria on it by up 37%, keep it here," he motioned to the small stand just outside the bathroom, where his own was- because this was Zayn, the clean freak. "Okay?"

 

Louis's shoulders dropped in relief. "Yeah, sure, weirdo, okay." Zayn smiled, before heading back to the bathroom.

 

Louis watched him go in slight amazement. But this was the only way he knew how to make it work with Zayn, never question it, never label it, a bit at a time. Normally, he would have slept with whoever it was- but Zayn was special. Zayn was different. And so he eased himself into his life, slowly but surely.

 

"Come on, Louis," Harry whined, "The lad's gonna be fine, it was just a sprained ankle, not like he fell off the runway again, he's had worse. Can we go now?"

 

Louis bit his bottom lip, watching Zayn hail for a taxi with his free hand, the other balancing him on a crutch. "I don't know-"

 

"Come on, I haven't seen you with a bird on your arm in a while, let's go find us some dates." He rose his eyebrows, and Louis laughed, clapping Harry's back.

 

"Go without me, mate." He said, and jogged towards Zayn, who looked too thin in the Paris night light. "Come on, pretty boy, I'll give you a ride home." Zayn looked surprised.

 

"I thought you and Hazza were gonna go clubbing. You really should, it’s been awhile since you let loose and had some fun. And having frequent social interactions can help you focus-"

 

"How come you never go?" Louis asked, steering Zayn towards the car park.

 

"Um....I would have thought that was fairly obvious."

 

"Oh yeah? What?" He opened the car door, and helped Zayn in, climbing in behind the wheel after.

 

"Um..." Zayn looked baffled, his inky black hair tumbling in waves down to his jaw as he undid his bun. "Well firstly, if I was seen in a club and let’s say the paps caught me, management would surely have my head. Secondly, my social skills are pretty terrible. All I talk about are comics or art, and I can’t dance or drink and hate loud music. I’m not exactly the most ideal ‘party’ lad, Lou.." His voice was factual, just slightly surprised that Louis has asked at all.

 

"Hmm," Louis admitted, driving out into the fluorescent nightlife, "I don't see it."

 

"Don't see it?" Zayn laughed incredulously, "Well, thanks for the confidence boost Louis, but it just makes you sound insane."

 

"No, you're a model, Zayn. You have publicity events every other day so your social skills are way above normal people's, you always know exactly what to say. And just because you go out doesn’t mean you have to drink, pretty sure people could get drunk just by staring at you anyways, mate. You can talk about other things, but no one's smart enough to keep up since you’re a fucking English wiz. And one more thing-" he reached one hand out to grab Zayn's chin, turning the dark haired boy’s head so those amber eyes focused solely on him. "You're fucking perfect. Alright?"

 

It was said with such a startling amount of emotion, that Zayn could only nod dumbly.

 

A few weeks later, Zayn found a single drawer full of Louis's clothing, and so he cleaned out the entire chest, and let Louis find out on his own that he would always have a place in Zayn's home.

 

He still wasn't sure what they were, when he was sinking down onto Louis's hard, leaking, aching member for the first time. As Louis whispered words of encouragement.

 

"That's it," he whispered into Zayn's ear, a hot puff of air against the shallow curve of his neck, that made his nerves fry uncontrollably. "That's is my beautiful baby boy, that's it," and he groaned loudly, as Zayn sunk down onto him fully, his legs wrapped around Louis's waist. Zayn cursed softly, unused to the large, unnatural intrusion, but loving the feeling.

 

"Oh god-" Louis rested his forehead against Zayn's shoulder, "Fuck Zayn- you're so fucking tight."

 

Zayn rocks his hips forward experimentally, and they both moaned loudly. Louis guided him through it, one hand wrapped around his dick, until they both came at the same time.

 

He still didn't know what they were.

 

When Louis sold his apartment, when they started holding hands in public, Zayn had no idea. When he was introduced to Louis' family, and Louis was introduced to his, he still had no clue. When Louis slid the ring onto his finger, said his vows with tears in his eyes. He didn't know. But guess what?

 

He liked it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry updates won't always be daily but i'll post as often as i can


	4. half a heart; feels like home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niall and Zayn have a bit of a fallout and Niall leaves. It feels like the end, but Niall could never stay away from home for too long; he'd get homesick after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! there is a bit of content in hear that may be triggering so proceed with caution!
> 
> other than that please enjoy and excuse any grammatical errors

Niall stumbles through the door after much difficulty of unlocking the door, still giggling to himself and humming the song he last heard playing at the club. Albeit drunkenly, so he’s definitely sure he’s off beat, or maybe singing a different song entirely- but who cares, he’s having a blast. He and the lads had gone out to celebrate another six successful months of their tour; Modest was now allowing them to have a week break before continuing with the last few countries. It had been fantastic, in Niall’s opinion at least, they had gone to a crowded pub downtown filled with blasting music and blinding lights. And of course Niall drank everyone under the table, so that was a plus.

 

Just thinking about it, he giggles to himself again, tripping over his own feet as he toes off his shoes. Zayn always complains when he doesn’t leave them by the door, something about it being disrespectful. But as traditional and strict as he is about cleanliness, Niall can’t help but find his Pakistani (I’m only half pakistani, Neil) boyfriend’s antics adorable; just like the rest of him. Speaking of which, where is that sexy Greek God, he’s usually right there to greet Niall with kisses and a soft ‘welcome home, babe’ no matter how late it is.

 

He looks around their flat, or multiple flats since they bought the entire top floor of the building and knocked down the connecting walls to make it into one big condo, and sees a dim light illuminating from their kitchen. And there’s the angel- really that’s the only way to describe the boy since he’s fallen asleep at the island, head resting in between his overlapping arms, features soft and docile.

 

His hair contains no product, falling across his forehead and into his eyes, which twitch every now and then causing his impossibly long eyelashes to flutter beautifully against his cheekbones that could cut diamonds. His plump, pink lips are set into a small pout, making them look even fuller than normal. And if it were anyone else, they would have assumed the lad was having a bad dream but Niall knows his boyfriend well enough he’s able to recognize it’s just the face Zayn makes when he’s sleeping.

 

It’s almost physically impossible for Niall to stop himself from running his hand through the soft inky locks, a gentle smile coming to his lips. The quiet sigh of content that falls from those perfect lips sobering Niall instantly. But the peaceful moment is shattered in an instant as Zayn’s amber eyes slowly open and he backs away from Niall’s touch like a bullet, snarling in disgust. And whether it’s at himself or at Niall, he’ll never know, cursing himself for allowing a second of vulnerability under Niall’s ministrations, who looks utterly confused. And just _no-_ he does not get to look like that.

 

“Zed, baby,” The ravenette cringing at the nickname, “’S got ya so spook’d?” The blonde reaches out again to comfort the startled lad.

 

“Don’t touch me-” Zayn practically spits, glaring at his supposed boyfriend.

 

An expression crosses Niall’s face, looking properly offended. He has no idea what has gotten into the latter. “The fuck is up wit’ you?”

 

“With me?” Zayn barks out a humorless laugh, the Irishman visibly cringing at the sound. “What about you? You were supposed to be here-” He spares a glance at the clock. Two in fucking morning. “Five hours ago for a nice dinner. But no- you were out with everyone getting right pissed without a second thought that your _boyfriend_ was at home waiting for you after not seeing each other for seven and a half months.”

 

And that’s when Niall finally takes notice of the various food laid amongst the dining table, decorated with white tiger lilies and pear scented candles- Niall’s favourite. There’s alfredo pasta, spicy fried chicken, and a cobb salad along with a beautifully decorated cake (presumably butterscotch and whiskey if it continues with the theme of everything Niall loves). And now Niall feels like a proper arse because his amazing boyfriend probably spent hours making all this so he could have something nice and familiar to come home too.

 

“Zayn I-” As he goes to give an explanation and possibly an apology, the shorter boy cuts him off again.

 

“And not only that, but as I’m waiting I’m suddenly sent and tagged in hundreds of _these_ -” He shoves his phone (where did that even come from?) into the pale boy’s hand. Niall looks down, seeing the phone opened to Zayn’s twitter page, his DM’s filled with photos and videos of- _oh shit-_ it’s Niall, grinding drunkenly on some bird at the pub.

 

“And don’t even try to deny it, it’s all over the news along with fact you’re now going out with some pretty brunette named Barbara.” His voice cracks a bit at the end, but doesn’t lose any of the venom it held. “So much for loyalty.” Zayn hisses, clenching his trembling fists. And while there’s tears in those golden orbs, Niall is suddenly filled with anger.

 

Because yes, he may have forgotten about the dinner with Zayn, but he would _never_ even dream of cheating on this beautiful bloke. And how dare he think any differently, that’s just crossing the line.

 

“Fuck you,” Niall glares at his boyfriend, who looks startled by his sudden outburst. “Fuck you for not trusting me! Ya really t’ink I would do that to you? I’ve done absolutely not’in to make you doubt me love for you, so wh’t makes you t’ink I would cheat on you now?” They both hear the silent _because I wouldn’t_ there, but Niall doesn’t say it and Zayn refuses to acknowledge it.

 

The dark haired boy snorts, but there is no humor in it. “You’re kidding me right?” They stare each other down for a moment, hazel and blue. “ _Jesus Christ_ you actually believe yourself, don’t you?”

 

And now they’ve both raised their voice. Zayn’s suddenly glad they don’t have neighbors, but he also suspects the people under them could hear the argument. And even though he knows he should put some distance between them, Zayn still steps forward into Niall’s space, jabbing his pointer finger into the blonde’s firm chest.

 

“Every time we go out somewhere you’re swarmed with girls proclaiming their love for you. You’re probably so used to it that you don’t even know you flirt back with them; giving them winks and kisses on the cheek, even taking their numbers when you know they’re underaged. So don’t even give me that ‘I’ve done nothing’ excuse!” Zayn pushes at the blonde’s shoulders out of a fit of anger; though it does practically nothing except make Niall lose his balance a bit. His slimmer frame has always been no match for his boyfriend’s built one, which he finds he hates unless it’s in bed (not that he’ll ever admit that outloud).

 

Niall snarled, “I am so fucking done wit’ your bullshit! T’at’s all you are, full of shit!” The blonde storms out of the kitchen. Zayn following his boyfriend (ex?) closely after. “‘S all you do is nag nag nag at me! It’s frustratin’ as fuck!” He continues, throwing his hands up.

 

“Maybe if you’d just stop flirting with every bimbo you see and pay attention to me-”

 

Niall groans, hands going to his hair as he yanks on the strands in frustration. “Oh my god, ‘ere we go again! You piss me off, Zayn, I swear. You can’t even handle me lookin’ at other people when that’s all I’m doing!”

 

“Are you taking the piss?” Zayn grits his teeth, not believing the words spilling from the Irish bloke’s mouth. “You know damn well you do more than look. You act like I’m not there half the time and you’re always flirting-”

 

The blonde whirls around mid-step to glare at the older boy. “You’re so damn dramatic, to t’ink that I’m flirting. In actuality, you’re just a pathetic idiot full of insecurities. And I can’t take another day of being tied down to it. Ya either trust me or ya don’t.”

 

And that was like a shot to the heart to Zayn, Niall regretting it immediately after he said but he didn’t dare take it back. He is far too worked up at the moment to even think about what he is saying, not to mention he still has a decent amount of alcohol flowing through his system. Zayn freezes in his place, fists clenched at his his sides, trembling ever so slightly at the comment.

 

“Th-That’s not true!” He hopes his voice doesn’t betray him and show the pain he feels. “And if you’re so sick of being tied down, why don’t you just leave!”

 

“What, you mean like you did the band?” Niall snorts, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

At that, was a bit too far for Zayn’s liking. The blonde was hitting home and it was honestly like he took a knife and stabbed Zayn in the chest, now he was just turning and drilling it deeper.

 

“No, y-you don’t get to say that to me.” The ravenette whispers harshly. “You promised you would never hold that over my head. You knew why I had to leave.” His honey coloured eyes glaze over with unshed tears.

 

“What, because you couldn’t voice your opinions? Because you felt trapped and scared and like you didn’t belong? Please Zayn, get t’a fuck over yourself. We’ve all felt like t’at but unlike you, t’a rest of t’a lads and I were able to wait one more year to be free of Modest and actually do what we want’d. Admit it Zed, you let ya dumb insecurities get t’a best of ya and so you ran.” Niall hisses, his gut sinking more and more with each word he says, but he can’t seem to stop himself.

 

Zayn visibly cringes, seems to shrink away from the taller boy, shrink into himself actually. He hugs himself tightly, head bowed as he wills away tears and forces down the whimper threatening to spill from his lips. Images flash before his tightly shut eyes, remembering all the hateful things his ‘fans’ said to him, every news article about a girl jumping off a bridge or slicing her skin because Zayn left.

 

All the times he was ignored in interviews, and the days he was hardly acknowledged on stage, and that time he kept track of how many people called him a terrorist each day with a cut to his thigh. He lost weight because people called him fat, he quit smoking because the media called him a druggie but the found it useless because they thought his red rimmed eyes from crying the night before were from having a joint with Louis.

 

He even stopped painting because Modest said it would never get him anywhere. He was so deep in tearing himself apart for others that his doctor gave him ‘happy pills’ and suggested therapy. _That_ is why he had to leave, and Niall knew this, so to hold it against him, well it hurts.

 

“You’re wrong,” Zayn says, barely above the hum of their AC.

 

Niall steps closer, narrowing his blue eyes in accusation. “Pardon?”

 

Zayn takes a deep breath, daring to look up from behind his mile long lashes damp with tears. “I said, you’re wrong, about everything! I didn’t run and I certainly didn’t ask you to be tied down!” It was back to yelling now, but he stays as far away from the blonde as possible.

 

“Why the fuck do you think I’m leaving?” Niall growls, finally reaching his destination of the door.

 

He grabs his coat, his keys, and his wallet before throwing the front door open. Zayn quickly takes off one the slippers he’s wearing and chucks it at Niall. Or where Niall was standing seconds ago. The slipper flops sadly to the floor, the echo of the door slam still ringing in Zayn’s ears and rattling his bones. He breathes heavily as he glares at the spot his, now, ex boyfriend stood before shakily making his way over to retrieve his shoe. As he bends over, the half-pakistani boy hears the tell tale sound of a car speeding away, and that’s when the tears come.

 

The ravenette sinks down to the ground and cries, harder than he ever has before. He pulls his legs up to his chest, wrapping his skinny arms around them tightly as the tears stream rapidly down his face. This certainly wasn’t the first time they’ve had a fallout, but every time it seems worse to Zayn. They always make up in the end but one day the making up will stop and that, is what scares Zayn the most.

 

Niall curses as his grip on the steering wheel tightens, his knuckles turning bleach white and angry tears collecting in his eyes. He wipes them away before they have a chance to fall, refusing to cry because he knows he doesn’t deserve it. He’s the one to blame for this, for saying all those horrid things to Zayn. Zayn, the beautiful being who seemed to be carved from the greatest of Gods, who loves Niall no matter how many times he screws, who welcomes him home with open arms and a smile that could melt the coldest of hearts. Zayn who Niall promised to protect and love and never hurt, and now he’s gone and done just that.

 

“Fuck!” He groans, slamming the palm of his hand into the steering wheel a couple times. He comes to a stop at a red light, leaning his forehead on the leather covered wheel. “I am such an idiot.”

 

He drives around a while after that, just trying to clear his head and compose himself enough to get his hands to stop shaking. Once that happens, he calls Liam; they’ve been tighter lately since Zayn left, both sharing the pain of losing someone they care about deeply. Liam being his best friend and Niall being his boyfriend, they both took it hard.

 

“Ni, mate, what’s up?” Liam says a bit too loudly, Niall having to bring his phone farther from his ear. Obviously he was still out partying.

 

“Liam, I fucked up, like, big time.” And that seems to sober the brunette up instantly, going into his ‘Daddy Direction’ mode.

 

“What happened, are you alright, man?” Niall sighs through his nose, memories of Zayn’s beautiful eyes clouded with tears as a hurt expression crossed his perfect features.

 

“No,” He answers honestly. “Zed and I got into a fight again. Might be over f’good this time.” The blonde has the urge to go back to the pub and drink his weight in vodka, soak in his own sorrows.

 

Liam huffs out a quiet laugh, Niall can practically see him shaking his head. “You know it’s never over for you guys. You always fall back into each other. You two fight more than any other couple I know, but you also love each other more than anyone as well. Kinda like a twisted fairy tale, innit?”

 

“You know mate,” Niall chuckles, albeit sadly. “Ya might be right ‘bout t’at.”

 

Liam sighs, takes a moment to think things over. “Tell you what Niel, you can stay at my place for the rest of the week. But in that week you have to make up with Zayn or I’m kicking your smelly arse out.” Niall is grateful for the light tone Liam carries, thinks if he wasn’t so arse over tits for Zayn he would ask Liam to marry him.

 

“I owe you one, mate. See you later tonight then, yeah?” He hears the puppy eyed lad hum his agreement, and hangs up.

 

And that’s how he ends up spending the next six days in Liam’s house, wallowing in his own self pity. Every five minutes, he checks his phone so see if Zayn’s sent him anything, a text, a tweet, a voicemail, just something. But he also never works up the courage to send a message to the boy himself, his damn Irish pride making him stubborn to admit this is mostly his fault. The first four nights he was there, he drank himself into a stupor, crying over all the memories he and Zayn had made over the years, even going as far as to look at all the pictures they took together. It was only after Liam gave him an earful, and a few empty threats, that Niall was able to have some sense slapped into him.

 

But he doesn’t exactly know how to approach the situation; how do you tell someone you’re sorry after taking their biggest fear and regret and throwing it back in their face. He only has one more day left of their hiatus before they have to leave for touring again, and he hasn’t thought of a single way to show Zayn how sorry he is.

 

Niall flops down on his couch, laying on his side as he snacks on a bag of potato chips. His lanky body hangs off the furniture with a scowl on his face as he chews. His mind is racing with thoughts, mostly with his own self loathing. How could he say such things to his angel? But at the same time Zayn was the one that said Niall didn’t care about time when he clearly did. The blonde swallows as he twists on to his back.

 

“Damn it.” He sighs angrily, closing his eyes. His shirt is missing, crumpled on to the floor next to another bag of chips he finished off hours ago, one arm behind his head the other over his chest. “I do care, he has to know that...right?”

 

The artificial blonde grit his teeth as images of flashbacks, guilt causing his gut to tighten. One he can remember distinctly is that night they all went out to celebrate their album _Four_ at their local pub. Zayn was shoved up against a wall by some drunkards but Niall didn’t do anything to stop them, in fact none of them did.

 

_The ravenette mumbles an apology after bumping into another body, having to bend down to pick the cigarette that slipped from his grasp. Suddenly he’s kicked backwards, hands reaching down to grip the front of his leather jacket (his_ treasured  _jacket) and yank him to his feet. Zayn grunts as his back is slammed into the nearest wall, his feet leaving the ground as he meets the eyes of a sneering bloke- probably beyond pissed if the smell of his breath is anything to go by._

 

_Niall stood frozen with the other boys, just watching as the stranger growls into their band mate’s face. “What’s a fag like you doing here?”_

 

_Zayn is left a bit speechless, fear making him choke on his words. “I-I-”_

 

_“Bet you spread your legs for all of your band mates, don’t you? Just one word and your on your knees.” The words are hissed into his ear wetly, his hot breath making the dark haired boy cringe. “A muslim faggot like you shouldn’t even exist.”_

 

_With one last shove against the brick wall, Zayn is dropped and left rubbing his lower back in pain. His wince is noticeable as he straightens, freezing as his hazel eyes meet Niall’s._

 

_“Ni-” But the blonde turns away before he could finish, pretending to buy a drink at the bar; the other lads doing the same. With their backs turned, they couldn’t see Zayn’s eyes water as he pushes his way outside in shame._

 

And okay- at the time Niall thought his (ex)boyfriend should learn to defend himself, especially  since he hears stuff like that on a daily basis. But looking back on it now, Niall groans, it kind of makes him look like an arse; one who doesn’t care at that. And then there were all those times he’d flirt with others, no matter the gender. He recalls one of their movie dates, some bird with nice breasts had heavily flirted with him in front of Zayn and he didn’t even bother to mention that Zayn was his boyfriend.

 

_“What te’ fuck is your problem?” Niall asks, his voice monotone showing his annoyance. Zayn had practically dragged him out of the cinemas, now fixing him with the glare of the century._

 

_The ravenette gives a hollow laugh, “I was standing right there, you could have told her I was your boyfriend, or at least that you were on a date!” Zayn snaps._

 

_“She didn’t ask, besides it was just harmless flirting babe. You act like I actually took her number, which I didn’t.” He points out as if he just solved the greatest mystery. The shorter boy gapes at the blonde in silent disbelief before huffing sharply and turning on his heel to storm away._

 

Niall jolts up into a sitting position, staring at his lap. He runs his hands over the back of his head, linking them together at the nape of his neck to push his head between his legs. He hadn’t even gone after Zayn.

 

“No, because ‘m a complete asshole.” The Irish lad sighs, squeezing his eyes shut as he feels a migraine coming on.

 

He jumps when he hears his phone buzz, picking it up in a flash with the hope Zayn might have text him. To his disappointment, it was only the reminder on his calendar telling him what time he has to be at the airport tomorrow morning so that he doesn’t miss the flight back to Dubai. Niall groans and falls back on the couch, closing his eyes and falling asleep to the sound of the rom-com on rerun and his own self loathing thoughts.

 

There’s only fifteen minutes before the concert starts, Lou finishing the last touches on his hair and make-up. The day had been crazy, trying to get everyone to the stage on time, picking out their outfits, and the song sequence. Luckily, with all the chaos, Niall was able to stop thinking of a certain dark skinned angel back home, if only for a few moments. He can feel the adrenaline rushing into his veins, like it always does before the curtains go up, but this time it’s different. Instead of excited, he’s nervous; doesn’t know if he’ll do as good as he usually does because his mind is somewhere else, filled with _someone_ else.

 

Liam shoots him a smile as they get ready to go on stage, the sound of their fan’s screams ringing in his ears. He’s grateful for his puppy-eyed band mate, really just wants to kiss him but that would be weird (he would know since he’s done it before after getting drunk off his arse) like kissing his brother. They open with a song from their new album, _Perfect_ , which gets the fans even more excited. Niall loses track of time, getting caught up with the rush of the concert, the transitioning of songs, wrestling with the boys on stage, but he thinks he’s doing okay.

 

He hasn’t missed any of his cues, may be strummed the wrong chord once or twice, but nothing noticeable enough that Louis has to shoot him a look. He feels good, not stuck in his own head or Liam’s stupid apartment that felt nothing like home. And whenever he does get off track, mostly while answering the fans questions, Harry will usually pull him back (even if it’s with one of his lame ass jokes that no one understands).

 

“Alright, we’re going to slow things down a bit, yeah?” Liam grins out at the crowded stadium, getting screams of joy in return. Honestly, they’ll scream for anything Liam does, Niall thinks.

 

But he’s also caught off guard because _shit-_ he totally forgot they had agreed to perform one of their older songs, and now that Niall remembers the lyrics, he _really_ hates that he had agreed. Still, he plays the opening chords of the melody, the crowd going crazy, because _Half a Heart_ really hits them in the heart.

 

Liam lifts the mic, singing his part clearly, eyes locked with Niall’s like he knows how this song if affecting him. “So your friends been telling me, you’ve been sleeping with my sweater.”

 

And this is torture, Niall thinks, because with each line all he can imagine is _ZaynZaynZayn_ , and he knows the lad’s know because they all share this look as Liam finishes his part. The blonde takes a deep breath, knowing that the next verse belongs to a former band mate but is now assigned to him. He thinks he can hear some of the fans crying already, and focuses on that instead of the lyrics dancing off his lips. But then, as he prepares to sing the second half of the chorus, the lights go out and he can hear Louis, Liam, and Harry giggling like school girls. Just as he’s about to ask what the fuck is so fun, a single spotlight comes on and a familiar falsetto voice floods his ears.

 

“I'm half a man at best, with half an arrow in my chest. I miss everything we do, I'm half a heart without you.” Niall spins around so fast he thinks he’s going to get whiplash and he knows he’s dropped his guitar, but he doesn’t really care because suddenly blue meets gold, and Niall feels like he’s drowning all over again.

 

He doesn’t even notice that Louis has started singing, or that everyone in the stadium is sobbing, or that all the lights are back on. All he can focus on is the beautiful boy across from him, and suddenly the five-hundred metre runway feels a lot more like five-hundred miles. Niall only feels like he can move again when those hazel eyes look away to focus on Louis, walking towards the sandy haired lad. The blonde feels his knees go weak as Zayn’s angelic voice fills the arena, blue eyes following his every move.

 

The ravenette is standing in front of his partner in crime, intensely staring each other down as he sings his lines, surprised by how easily they flow out of him, and trying to convey how sorry he is for everything. When Louis cracks a grin, Zayn knows he’s forgiven, especially when the Doncaster boy drags him into a headlock and ruffles his hair.

 

Next is Harry, which makes Zayn shake a bit because the youngest band member took to his leaving the hardest. They both said some pretty awful things to each other, but now it all seems petty. The brunette was his rock during the tours, always down for a proper cuddle or laying on top of the tour bus at three in the morning to talk about absolutely nothing. When the Pakistani boy reaches him, even Harry seems a bit stiff, but then Zayn picks up a flower that was probably thrown on stage between songs. It’s a yellow tulip, coincidentally (probably not since the fans know _everything_ ) Harry’s favorite; something about them looking like bananas.

 

He gets down on one knee to present it to the curly haired bloke, joining him in singing the chorus. Harry tosses his head back and laughs, dramatically accepting the flower before hefting Zayn up and into a hug that kind of feels like home. The youngest sends him off to Liam with a kiss to his knuckles, who just presses a kiss to his cheek because, well, they were always cool. And after what seems like miles of walking, he’s face to face with man he’s truly here for.

 

Niall feels like his heart might break his ribs and burst out of his chest any minute because here, standing in front of him, is the love of his life. He wants to laugh at the irony of the song, at how stupidly perfect the lyrics fit their situation, and at how stupidly perfect Zayn is. And as the blonde sings the bridge of the song, it feels like everything fades away. It’s just him, Zayn, and a thousand things left unsaid.

 

Zayn is _so_ close but Niall thinks that if he reaches out, he wouldn’t be able to touch him. It’s driving him mad at this point, with no contact for almost a week, and for him to be _right there_ . Christ, he really is so lost without Zayn that it’s dizzying because Zayn is his oxygen, his stability, his everything. Sky blue melts into amber and Zayn feels like crying, feels like he’s dying but also being brought back to life because this is Niall, _his_ Niall. The loud, bubbly, optimistic Irish lad who dyes his hair blonde and had been there for Zayn through _everything._ But he has also hurt him, and that stops him from moving forward.

 

“Do you really think I’m a pathetic idiot full of insecurities?” He says it low enough for only Niall to hear, his voice wavering, can feel the tell tale sting behind his eyes because those words have been ringing in his head ever since the blonde Irishman left.

 

And Niall feels like the biggest douche of all time, to put such an idea in Zayn’s beautiful mind, well he hates himself for it. They’ve both stopped singing much longer than they should have, but Niall doesn’t really care at this moment because the fans are terrifyingly quiet, the air is filled with tension and anticipation, and if he doesn’t kiss Zayn right this moment, he might actually pass out. So he does.

 

He whispers a sharp ‘ _never_ ’ and grabs Zayn’s delicate wrist and draws the shorter lad to him, crashing the slender frame to his chest and fitting his lips against the ones that have been haunting his dreams for days, not giving a fuck what management will think. He loves Zayn, and he’s going to show everyone just how much if he damn well pleases.

 

The stadium erupts in cheer, so loud it shakes the stage, and they both know; _this_ is home. Zayn feels the air rush back into his lungs, tears streaming down his cheeks as Niall lifts him up like one of those cheesy movie moments. He can’t help but laugh against the blonde’s lips, bring his hands up to cup his cheeks, feeling Niall’s light stubble. And Niall can breathe again hearing that endearing laugh, going as far as to spin the older boy around, the remaining three band members singing the last chorus.

 

And as the music winds down, Niall sets Zayn back on his feet, leaning their foreheads together to just take in each other’s presence. Zayn raises the microphone between them, looking straight into those sky blue eyes he loves so much, and sings;

 

“ _I’m half a heart without you,_ ” The lyrics are more or less breathless but Niall just _has_ to kiss him again, wiping the boy’s tears away.

 

“Okay lovebirds, enough.” Louis gags, earning him punch from Harry (always the romantic) and a warning look from Daddy Direction.

 

“Awe, don’t be jealous Lou Bear, you and Hazza can make out after the concert yeah?” The fans scream at the reference of “Larry”, to which Zayn grins proudly at.

 

Louis glares as his cheeks burn pink, “Watch it Malik, I’ve read your diary.” But Zayn just looks smug, giving the oldest of the five a wink before he turns to face the actual crowd.

 

“Before I go let me just clear some things up,” and Niall stands by his side because he knows where this is going. “No, I am not coming back.” That earns him many protests and a few nasty words, but Niall swells with pride as his boyfriend doesn’t even flinch. “An yes, I am going solo but that does not mean I am competing with these lovely lads.”

 

Niall squeezes his hand as he hesitates to continue. “But lastly and most importantly, yes. Niall and I are dating, have been for three years. And Louis and Harry here have been in love since the X-Factor. And Liam over there, is bisexual.” Another eruption of screaming and crying ensues from the fans.

 

“Ya’ hear that Modest! That, that is the sound of support. So fuck you for ever trying to oppress our sexuality and love for each other! Take that and shove that up your arse!” Zayn yells straight into one of the cameras, flipping it off. “Christ, that feels so good to let out." He chuckles, taking a moment to compose himself.

 

"Promise me you’ll take care of my boys, yeah?” He directs the question at the fans, who cheer their agreement. And if possible, Niall thinks his heart might have just grown even more for Zayn, this amazing, independent, strong, beautiful boy he gets to call his own. He pulls the slimmer boy to him by the waist and Zayn goes easily, leaning against the blonde who has been his wall of support for years, makes him feel stronger. They look at each other and grin because, yeah- they’re okay; they’re home.

 

When the concert finally ends, the boys all come together for one last group hug, tears sliding down all their faces as Zayn bids them the best and they do the same for him. Then, and only then, Niall takes him to their penthouse, to their home, and makes sweet love to him, makes Zayn cry out, makes him yell how he's Niall’s. And the blonde whispers in his ear how gorgeous he looks and how he won't ever leave him. Zayn curls up into his side afterwards, and whispers, “I don’t mean to nag on you Ni, I’m just scared of losing you.”

  
It takes Niall’s breath away, because _fuck-_ he feels the exact same way, and buries his face in Zayn’s neck, kissing the spot just under the older boy’s ear. “I love you, angel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if the end seemed a little weak, I was in a rush and couldn't really think straight


	5. it's the way you kiss me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis thinks kissing Zayn is perfect.
> 
> or one where Louis and Zayn are magazine editors and Louis can't choose which kiss is his favourite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please forgive me for any grammatical errors! enjoy, loves!

If someone asked Louis what his favourite part of being with Zayn is, well, it would definitely have to be the kisses they share. Kissing Zayn was something else entirely, and each one of them perfect, hold a special meaning, a secret only they share.

 

(1) The Morning Kiss

"Shit- I can't find the files, Simon's gonna kill me!" Louis hisses as he searches their apartment. Zayn leans against the door, bored. He's been ready to go for at least fifteen minutes.

 

"He's gonna kill us if we're late. Let's go, Lou!" Zayn whines, almost stamping his foot.

 

"Zayn- I spent hours reviewing that article, I finished it and everything! And I hate paperwork, I am not doing it agai- wait, wait, wait!" He cries triumphantly, pulling the case file out from under the sofa. He cheers and Zayn rolls his eyes as he dashes for the door, "Come on, pretty boy, we're gonna be late."

 

"Are we?" Zayn teases, raising an eyebrow. "I hadn't noticed."

 

Louis laughs, leaning forward and kissing him softly, their lips barely moving together, before they're outside and rushing for the car because really- Simon does not understand the human imperfections of being late.

 

(2) Their first Kiss

One of kind.

 

Zayn was so clumsy, so flustered, when Louis leaned down to claim his lips, he'd managed to trip backwards over a chair, and only just managed to not knock his head off. Louis had caught him, trapping him in his arms, cool breath fanning over his face, "Relax, Zayn."

 

Zayn doesn't relax. Louis presses his lips to his, slowly, dry, soft, and Zayn is stiff, unresponding, unsure. But Louis doesn't laugh at him, like he knows Zayn fears he will. Instead, he lifts Zayn up by his bony hips, and sits him on the desk so he can stand between his legs. Still no response, so Louis tries to gently coax a motion out of him. He let's his top teeth graze Zayn's bottom lip, and gains entrance. It's the second his tongue is in Zayn's mouth, exploring, tasting the sweet coffee, that Zayn responds.

 

It's slow, hesitant, clumsy, but he's responding, moving his lips uncertainly. He pulls away quickly, flushing, and mumbles an excuse before he's running out of the building, leaving Louis standing there alone.

 

The brunette editor leans against the desk, breathless. Wondering why the hell that was the best, hottest, sexiest kiss in his whole life. He's kissed men and women before, thousands and thousands times more experienced than Zayn. People who were more than willing to do it, who knew exactly what to do with their tongue.

 

But Zayn was stiff, uncomfortable, shy, didn't know what he was doing with his hands or his tongue. Didn't know that it was good to be vocal. Because Louis had a feeling that his co-worker would be very vocal. But just now, he'd stopped himself from making a sound. He was too shy. There were too many things wrong with the kiss. It shouldn't have been hot or sexy.

 

But it was.

 

Because it was Zayn, and for a moment, he was kissing Louis back.

 

(3) The Kiss That Leads To More

Zayn isn't like that anymore. He isn't awkward and shy and uncomfortable and running away.

 

But it takes moments like this for Louis to remember that. Moments when Louis's hovering over Zayn, leaning down and kissing him hungrily, their hips thrusting to meet each other. When Zayn's thin legs are wrapped around his waist pulling him down, and his hands are scratching down Louis's muscled back. He's already discovered all of Louis's erogenous zones.

 

"Louis..." he whimpers, black hair falling in waves and plastering to his forehead and neck, cheeks flushed and lips red from kissing. He leans up, capturing Louis's lips hungrily, mewling, and god, those sounds. Louis thinks he could cum just listening to him.

 

"What, baby?" he asks breathlessly, groaning as Zayn reaches for his lips again but misses when their hips grind together. "What do you need?"

 

"You."

 

And god, this boy will be the end of him.

 

(4) The Public Peck

Zayn isn’t much one for public affection. Holding hands was hard enough, but kissing? Christ, that took weeks.

 

But now, when they go to museums or basketball games, Louis can give him a quick kiss when his team wins, or when Zayn just keeps talking. Zayn still flushes whenever he does it, and looks around fearful that someone was watching. And Louis tells him over and over; "Zee, you have nothing to be embarrassed about. You're beautiful."

 

"No." Zayn cuts him off, irritated at the fact they have this conversation so often, and he turns away from the work of art they're examining. "I'm not. And I'm okay with that, Louis. Don't lie." He's snapping, and he runs his hands forcefully through his hair, pushing up his thick framed glasses. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom."

 

"Zayn," Louis calls pleadingly, but Zayn's gone.

 

He stands there miserably for a few moments, wishing he hadn't made any sort of remark. But god, he hates it when Zayn talks like that. He's got so many confidence issues when it comes to his looks, and it doesn't matter how many times Louis calls him beautiful, he never seems to believe it. The Doncaster lad wants to track down everyone who ever made fun of his baby boy and beat them to a bloody pulp.

 

"Hey," a young woman with red hair grins, "Now that your friend is gone, maybe you and I could go check out the exhibit downstairs?" she's incredibly flirtatious and she didn't see the kiss.

 

"Sorry babe," Louis laughs, "My friend who just left is actually my boyfriend. And he just went to the bathroom."

 

She stares at him for a moment, shocked, "What- the mop with black hair is your boyfriend?" she has the nerve to laugh. "That's funny. I like a man with a sense of humour-" Louis can't breathe, because there's Zayn, standing right behind her. His mouth open like he was about to apologise and now- she turns, to see him and has the sense to look guilty, murmuring something and rushing away.

 

"Zee-"

 

"No," Zayn sighs. "Maybe I should be putting more effort into my appearance-"

 

"No-"

 

"Louis, honestly?" He looks up with concerned whiskey eyes, "I'm embarrassing to you. I know you don't feel that way, and it's one of the things I love about you, but I should at least try," he touches Louis's arm gingerly, before heading home. Leaving Louis to stare at a piece of art he doesn't understand, feeling as though he doesn't belong there without Zayn.

 

He doesn't know how to react.

 

God- Zayn has always been beautiful, but when he puts effort into his appearance- Louis doesn't know whether to be thrilled (which in the long run, is a bad thing, because he'll be encouraging Zayn to be self conscious) or to ignore it.

 

But Zayn's hair is cut, styled into a quiff, making his eyes look wider, and cheek bones more defined. Dressed in tight black jeans, a lavender and white floral button-up shirt, emphasising his lithe form. No longer are the circular glasses that took up half his face, but slim and top-rimmed that are clear and stay perched on the brige of his nose. Their other co-wkers notice Zayn's change, but only Liam asks about it, to which he responds that he needed new clothes and the shop assistant had a field day with him. The office laughs, and nobody is any wiser.

 

The next time they go to a museum, it's Zayn who's hit on. And as jealously burns through Louis, he presses his lips to Zayn's. Hissing into his ear, "There. Proven. You're beautiful, now stop gelling up your hair. But keep the button-ups. I like them."

 

(5) Just kissing

When Zayn's straddling him on a lazy Saturday night, while Louis leans back on the sofa, admiring the view. His hands firm on Zayn's ass, encouraging him to grind his hips down. Zayn's hands on Louis's neck, as he kisses him deeply, both just content in being lost in the other. Zayn leans his head back so Louis can kiss and suck down his neck. "God Zee-" Louis hisses, creating a nasty hickey below his jaw that has Zayn writhing. "I love you so much," and he can't help his voice from breaking with emotion.

 

Zayn just captures his lips again, and he can kiss perfectly now. Knows exactly what to do with his tongue, and he moans, mewls, groans, whines, cries out in pleasure. But the only sound in the apartment now is their sloppy, intensely hot make out session, the sound of skin brushing against skin and sounds of aching heat. Zayn bites just behind Louis's ear, his soft, silky hair brushing against Louis's temple.

 

"Fuck-" Louis stutters "When did you get so good at this?"

 

"I've been reading." Zayn admits, pulling back to press their foreheads together as they catch their breath.

 

Louis hardens immediately, "Reading about kissing?"

 

"Among other stuff." And then he's kissing down Louis's collar, and the older man can only just restrain himself, pulling Zayn back up so he can look at his lust blown eyes.

 

"Zayn, you've been reading about sex?" Zayn nods, almost shyly, and Louis groans lewdly, "Where are you getting books like that?"

 

"Not so much books, as the internet."

 

"Fuck- baby boy! What sort of stuff are you looking up?" But he doesn't get an answer because he's suddenly kissing Zayn again, electricity running through the both of them, and they fit together perfectly. Zayn holding onto him for dear life, and Louis gripping him like he's the most important thing in the universe.

 

Because he is.

 

(6) Languidly

Both of them are naked, Louis sat on the large arm chair, watching the TV. Zayn's splayed, straddling him, also facing the TV, his back flush against Louis's chest. He's impaled totally on Louis's dick, whining softly, both covered in a light sheen of sweat, Louis rolling his hips minutely, trailing his fingers up and down Zayn's body. "This is my favourite part," Zayn whispers

 

"Yeah?" Louis grins, wrapping his hand around Zayn's hard member, "Let me make it better."

 

"Son of a-" his head tips back onto Louis's shoulder, as he cums hot over Louis' fingers. He feels Louis cum deep inside him, filling him with warmth. After a few moments he pouts, "You made me miss my favourite bit."

 

"Not my fault I'm irresistible," Louis teases, pulling out of Zayn gently, knowing his boyfriend is probably sensitive after such a long fuck. He spins Zayn around, their bare chests grazing "Sorry, I know you love your shows about superheros."

 

"I do," he admits, "But I love you more," and he kisses Louis softly.

  
If Louis hasn't mentioned before; it's perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what did you guys think? feed back would be lovely


	6. be my subject

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We can't choose the things we're good at, and sometimes the things we're good at make no sense at all.
> 
> Dancer AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please forgive me for any grammatical errors! enjoy reading!

"No, Zayn," Perrie sighed, "You're not doing it. Your knee needs to be fluent to the ground when you land."

 

Liam watched the coach with interest, but to be honest, he was more interested in the young man she was scolding. He was on the shorter side but lean with lithe muscle, dressed in skin tight black leggings and thin white cropped shirt, showing off his beautifully caramel skin and prominent hipbones. His hair was an inky mess on his head, once pulled back into a lazy bun, but now some of the hazardous locks came undone and framed his angelic face.

 

"I keep telling you," the ballet dancer huffed, "No matter how much I practice that move, I can't do it. It puts way too much pressure on my ankle-"

 

"Zayn." Perrie cut him off with a wave of hand, "Enough with the whining; get it perfected. You're the goddamn star of the recital and if you can't make it work-"

 

"Excuse me," Liam cut her off.

 

Liam Payne, hip-hop dancer, widely known in the underground street crews, but he'd made a few stellar performances on stage. Perrie turned to him irritably and crossed her arms, clearly hating that he had interrupted.

 

The brunette raised an eyebrow, "I think he's right. It puts a lot of pressure on the ankle, especially with a jump that high. You're pushing him too hard for a move you're not even sure is possible."

 

The dance instructor glared at him, flicking her blonde hair over her shoulder. "And what would you know?" She sneered, "Hip hop isn't dancing."

 

"Actually," Zayn cut in, "It's been a form of dancing far longer than ballet, it's just recently become more of a trend. It's a more intense physical work out an-"

 

"Fine Zayn!" She snapped, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Figure the rest of the dance out yourself. I'm gonna grab a smoke." And she was walking away. Zayn watched her leave, guilt clearly etched onto his face.

 

"Damn, she's a piece of work," Liam whistled lowly, and Zayn turned to him, half smiling.

 

"Thanks for the back up, but she hates it when people side against her," he reached up to take the tie out of his hair, the black waves tumbling down as they’re released from their restraint. He ran his fingers through his hair and flushed at Liam's state of dress. Baggy shorts and an undone hoodie, with no shirt; his rippling abs glistening with sweat.

 

"I'm Zayn Malik," he offered as a distraction.

 

"Liam Payne," the tall, handsome man replied. "And don't sweat it man, every dance is an art form, some people are just too ignorant to see that."

 

"Yeah?" Zayn looked up hopefully, sliding down the mirrored wall to stretched his legs. Liam copied the movement, resting his elbows on his raised knees and lacing his fingers together. "You're not gonna make fun of me for doing a girls thing?"

 

The brown eyed man turned to look at Zayn curiously, "Is that what other people do?"

 

"No." Zayn laughed shortly, "Other people beat the shit out of me." He swallowed, stretching his body down to his right ankle, giving Liam deliciously dirty thoughts on the kind of things he could do with a body that flexibility. "It got so bad once I couldn't even dance. I looked like a mess I’m sure, and one of my arms was broken. Threw me all off balance."

 

Liam said nothing, biting his tongue to tame his anger. Tried not to think of what he wanted to do to those people. "How long have you been into hip hop?"

 

"Since I was a kid," he nodded, "I was kind of a troublemaker when I was little, got into a lot of bad shit I shouldn’t of. Was like a good way to vent, at first. Then this uh, talent scout 'found' me, and offered me a deal. Making decent money lately at gigs," he looked up to see Zayn watching him thoughtfully, before nodding.

 

"I'd pay to watch you dance." The darker boy shrugs.

 

"Yeah, kid?" He grinned wolfishly, "I'd pay to see you do a whole host of other things."

 

Zayn flushed, turning to look at the ceiling, face burning. "I'm going to pretend you didn't just proposition me like a hooker."

 

Liam laughed, "You're alright, mate."

 

The lanky ravenette beamed, "Thanks."

...

The next time Liam saw Zayn, the kid was on his hands, body perfectly straight, feet in the air with a handstand. He was still, breathing controlled. Obviously some sort of training exercise.

 

"What's up, mate?" Liam called, dumping his bag in the corner of the studio that, for now, belonged only to the two of them for practice.

 

"Liam please," Zayn breathed, obviously not appreciating hip hop dancer's lame attempt at a pun. "Don't be distracting, I need to reach eight minutes I like this,"

 

"What are you up to?" He asked, popping a grape into his mouth and stretching out his leg.

 

The Pakistani boy bit his tongue to stop himself from groaning in frustration, "Six and a half."

 

Liam smirked at the strain on Zayn's voice, before appraising him, "You look hot like that, pretty boy," Zayn's entire body wobbled slightly, and he muttered out a curse. The rough dancer laughed "Want me to help? Run my hands down the length of your-"

 

Zayn fell.

 

His body toppled over and Liam reacted, quick as lightning, catching Zayn. One hand cupped around his back protectively, mere centimetres from where it would have hit the floor. Liam was suddenly serious, eyes alight with worry. "Shit, Zayn! Are you alright?"

 

Zayn nodded, cheeks flushing from feeling Liam's warm, naked chest against his bare arm, "I told you not to distract me."

 

"Sorry," Liam said sincerely, helping Zayn sit up, "You sure you're alright?"

 

"Yeah, yeah," he nodded. "Don't worry about me."

...

But for all of the flirting and the friendship and the obvious attraction- nothing happened. Why? Liam couldn't tell you. Zayn was too shy to speak up, and Liam was never quite sure of Zayn's feelings, and he didn't want to mess up their friendship. But 8 months later, they couldn't avoid the inevitable for any longer.

 

"I don't understand," Zayn sighed again, "Why would you break up with Danielle? She was- she was perfect, mate."

 

"No, she wasn't Zayn." Liam sighed, running his hands over his newly shaven head. "She wasn't perfect."

 

"Well...why not?" Zayn asked, sliding forward so he was close to Liam, concern glittered all over the sharp angles of his face. Liam had to look away, angry at himself for not being able to control his emotions for the second time in his life.

 

"Because I had to try, Zayn!"

 

Zayn laughed softly, touching Liam's arm, "Leeyum, we all have to try in every relationship, doesn't matter how good it is, we always have to tr-"

 

"No!" Liam cut him off harshly, and turned to look at Zayn's confused face. His shoulders slumped forward, "No," he said more softly. "You don't always have to try. With you- with you, it's, Zayn, it's fucking effortless. I don't even have to try. It's like, I'm myself and I don't have to work to- to impress you, or make you smile, you just, _we_ just work. No effort required. Like, when you're good at a subject and you don't even have to try. That's us, Zayn, you're my subject."

 

There was silence for a long moment, and Liam's chin was being pushed up to meet Zayn's hazel eyes. And soft, pink lips were pressing against his. Not coaxing or promising anything more, just soft, and content, and effortless. "You're my subject."

 

"You're good at every subject," Liam teased

  
"Fine," Zayn rolled his eyes, leaning in for another kiss, "You're the only subject I want to be good at."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, kinda short, but fluffy, yeah? i still feel bad for making Liam a bad guy in the first chapter so hopefully this is better


	7. drunken nights and cab drives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So Niall, Zaynie told us you have a bit of an exhibitionist kink?" Louis says out of the blue, smirking as the blonde chokes on his drink.
> 
> "Oh did 'e now?" Niall inquires, staring down his boyfriend who his trying, and failing, to hide his snickers behind an innocent face.
> 
> That sly littl- "Wanna tell us how that happened Nialler?"
> 
> The Irishman clears his throat, "Well..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please excuse any grammatical errors!

Zayn Malik didn’t get drunk, but here he was- _drunk_.

 

Not that Niall could blame him, nightclubs had never been his thing. But it was Louis’ birthday, and he’d forced them to some ridiculous place so he could pick up a beautiful young woman (or just take Harry home again when he's drunk enough). And while Niall stayed sober, Zayn downed drink after drink at the bar. He honestly didn’t mind, Zayn was normally the one to keep sober and drive home, but tonight, he would do it. His gorgeous boy had been stressed, and some alcohol would take away his troubles for one night at least.

 

What he hadn’t counted on, was that his car had run out of gas. He groans, irritated, and steers the fumbling Zayn out of the car park.

 

“You are so handsome,” Zayn coos, tripping over his own feet as he clings on to Niall’s shoulder in the orange lit up night. “D’ya know that? Han’some…”

 

Niall rolls his eyes, taking the route to a nearby taxi stand, “You’re pretty fine too, baby.”

 

Zayn giggles delightedly, pressing a wet kiss to Niall’s jaw, closing his eyes, and Niall was practically dragging him to the taxi stand, where a cab was waiting. They both slide into the back, the driver is a middle aged, kind looking large woman, who smiled at the two. For about 2 minutes, it was blissful and quiet, before Zayn turns to Niall, cheeks flushed, hazel eyes sparkling.

 

"I’m horny,” he whispered, one hand moving to palm Niall through his jeans.

 

The artificial blonde almost leaps in his seat. “Zayn!” He exclaims, pushing the hand away, glancing at the driver, but she seemed oblivious.

 

Zayn ignores him, moving in to kiss Niall full on the lips, and he tastes of fruit and liquor and sugar. Zayn moans filthily around his tongue, and Niall pushes him away. “Come on, Zee, wait till we’re home.”

 

“But I want you now!” He whines loudly, hands fumbling to undo Niall’s shirt. Niall looks up to see the cab driver meeting his eyes through the mirror, she laughs. Niall pushes him away again, and Zayn shifts, tucking his knees under him on the seat, and leans back on his heels. He examines Niall and clicks his tongue, drunk addled mind barely working. “You’ve never said no before,” he pouts, hand reaching out for Niall’s collar.

 

“Quite the boyfriend you got there,” the woman chuckles.

 

And Niall would have blushed if Niall blushed, instead, he just keeps batting Zayn away. It was driving him mad. To have his normally recluse boyfriend pawing at him in front of a stranger, begging for his cock.

 

“Want you inside me,” he whispers lewdly, and how he manages to look fuckably innocent as he says it was beyond Niall.

 

“Jesus,” Niall hissed, before he shoves Zayn’s shoulders back firmly. “I said no, Malik.” He growls, knowing that if Zayn tries anything else, Niall would turn into some sort of exhibitionist, and fuck him straight into the faded seats. Not that the woman would mind, she's beaming at him, almost encouraging him with her eyes to do it.

 

Zayn’s eyes sparkle with tears instead of alcohol induced happiness, and he was sniffling.

 

Niall’s heart pangs, even though it was just the liquor making his boyfriend over react. “Don’t cry, baby,” he soothes.

 

And Zayn sniffles harder, “Don’t you want me?”

 

It’s the most effective thing he could have said. Trust it to be Zayn, who even while not fully functioning, can draw the deepest emotions out of Niall. It forms a horrible knot in his stomach, sounds so needy, and fearful, as though Niall’s answer could ever possibly be no (which it couldn’t, by the way). It sounds young, and weak, and- and sad.

 

“I want you, but-“ Zayn wipes at tear stained cheeks, “You don’t want me.”

 

The cab driver pauses at a red light and turns around, facing Niall. “You could you know, I wouldn’t mind-“

 

Niall ignores her, “Zaynie, I do want you gorgeous, just wait till we get home alright, please?” This is torture for him, to have everything he wants being offered to him right now, but he can’t open the gift till later.

 

Zayn suddenly grins, all traces of sadness gone as an idea forms. He gets onto the floor, and crawls between Niall’s legs, thin enough to fit snugly between the back of the chair, and Niall’s crotch. The dark haired boy smirks, Niall’s never said no to him when he’s done this before.

 

The younger man cries out as Zayn’s fingers graze over his throbbing member. “Fucking ‘ell,” he groans, prying Zayn’s hands, gently, reluctantly, away, as he turns to the driver. “Run every fucking red light. I’ll pay double.”

 

“Honey,” she drawls, “I’m taking every shortcut I know, don’t know why, this is one hell of a show.”

 

Zayn deftly keeps trying to get to Niall’s dick, and the paler one tips his head back against the seat. He really can’t take much more of this. He lifts Zayn up to straddle him, hands firm on Zayn’s ass, and the lean artist is thrilled at the contact, and he grinds down like he knows Niall always loves.

 

“F-Fuck,” Niall whispers, eyes drifting shut at the sensation of jeans rubbing against groin.

 

“I’ve missed you,” Zayn slurs brokenly into his left ear and he frowns, pulling back.

 

“What are you talking about? I’ve never left you,” Niall sighs, gripping the smaller boy’s slim hips.

 

“Last Saturday,” he mewls against Niall’s neck, nipping slightly. “You went with Leeyum to a game.”

 

Niall chuckles, hands a soothing weight on Zayn’s back, “Because you hate going to games, baby.”

 

“Still.” Zayn pouts, “’issed you,” he grinds down again, and bites Niall harder. “Will you fuck me now?" his voice drops into a whisper, and he giggles, "I won’t tell anyone.”

 

Niall laughs, strained and breathless, as they near his apartment. “No, but she might,” he pulls out the money, tossing about €20 more than required into the front seat, and then hauling them both out, and practically running inside with Zayn in his arms.

 

It’s the hottest fucking sex they’ve ever had, and Niall wonders briefly if he now has a voyeurism or exhibitionist kink?

  
_Christ,_ he hopes not. He has enough kinks as it is.

....

"My head is killing me," Zayn groans the next morning, sitting up, a shooting pain crawling up his spine. "Shit, and everything hurts."

 

"You're welcome," Niall grumbles from the pillow.

 

Zayn frowns, before spotting Niall's back, a mirage of scratches and hickeys, nail marks and fingerprints. He flushes as he looked down at his own hips, bite marks and fingerprints stain him. "Oh."

 

"Yeah ' _oh_ '. I don’t think we can never take a taxi again."

 

"I told you I should never drink."

 

"Are you kidding? Christ, no! We're getting you drunk _way_ more often from now on! Think we might have to start having sex in public, too." Niall sits up slowly, ruffling a hand through his post sex hair.

 

Zayn snorts sarcastically, "Let's have some breakfast and discuss that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'll try to update more often now that it's summer but please feel free to leave me ideas!


	8. let me show you you're strong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I can't believe how big he's gotten, you sure grow fast don't you, little one?" Zayn giggles, scratching the ten month puppy behind his floppy ears.
> 
> Strong arms suddenly wrap around his waist, a kiss being pressed behind his own ear. "Yes, you certainly do." Harry whispers, grinning proudly.
> 
> And Zayn feels proud too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> excuse any errors!

"You're perfect," Zayn crooned. 

 

He was on his knees, having picked up the golden retriever puppy, with a light coat and dark ears, eyes barely open as he held it so it's head nuzzled into his warm neck. "You're the smallest, most perfect, most adorable thing in the whole universe," he murmured, marvelling at just how small this puppy was. 

 

The runt of the litter. The one that hadn't been fighting around with its brothers and sisters, but rather, huddled in the corner, desperate for warmth. The first one that Zayn picked up. "Oh, you're so small." He stood carefully, so as to not jostle the little bundle of gold, and smiled when the owner of the pet store jogged up to him, breathless.

 

"Found one you like, mate?" asked the man, whose name tag read 'Harry'.

 

"I have." Zayn beamed, unstyled dark hair tumbling into his eyes. 

 

Harry eyed the puppy, before glancing back into the pen, "You sure you want that one? He's a little small, probably the runt."

 

"That's why I want him." Harry appraised the young man again through new eyes, and smiled. 

 

"Alright," he grinned, "Sure, uh, let me tell you about him," he rubbed his neck. "Nine weeks old, mother turned away, rare- but it happens. Bred to live at home, can handle common noises, no violence, though this pedigree line has a small history of biting, that's easy to train out of them though. Uh, he's had his first shots, been pre-treated against worms, and the dislocating hip weakness is even rarer in this line."

 

The puppy gave a tentative yap and Zayn was bursting with energy. "How much?"

 

Harry had to wince at that, this line was expensive, "€2000,"

 

"Done." Zayn nodded, pulling out his credit card and handing it to Harry, keeping one arm wrapped firmly around the puppy, he looked up at Harry with a grin. "Did you know looking at the colour of their ears is an indication to what colour they're going to be when they grow up?" he kissed the puppy's head, "He's gonna mid-golden brown."

 

"Mate," Harry shook his head fondly "It's like you've never had a dog before," and he began walking to the counter.

 

Zayn followed, quick on his heels, as though he himself were the puppy, and Harry couldn't help but draw similarities. Both small, weak, fragile, desperate for warmth and love. He moved around the counter and Zayn leaned over it, gently setting the puppy down but never letting his hands leave it. 

 

"I haven't," Zayn sighed, leaning over so the puppy could lick his nose. "When I was younger, I..." he swallowed, "I had to look after my younger sisters until I was 18, after my baba left when I was 10 and me mum fell ill. No time for a puppy, and then University and Art School," he scratched behind the puppy's ears, "Never any time. So I'm doing it now. I'm gonna make time, force myself to stop making excuses."

 

Harry looked down at the boy, who suddenly seemed more like a kid, and a surge of protectiveness swam through him. He sorted through the papers, and slid them over to the young man, "Signature?"

 

"Hm? Oh, sure," he scrawled his name down, and Harry glanced at it, Zayn Malik.

 

"What are you gonna call him?" he gestured to the puppy and Zayn grinned.

 

"I was thinking about Zeus, what do you think?"

 

"I think he's way too tiny to be the god of thunder," Harry chuckled.

 

"Exactly," Zayn thrummed with a contagious energy, "For him to become strong, I have to convince him he's strong."

 

Harry looked up at him subtly, while he typed into the computer. "Is that ah- what you need?" Zayn looked up at him with a frown, "Someone to convince you you're strong?"

 

Zayn stood, stiffly, something like anger in his whiskey coloured eyes, "What?"

 

"Nothing," Harry shrugged easily, fixing a collar onto the pup, and finishing up the rest of the admin. "Bring him back in two weeks for the follow up,"

 

"Sure," Zayn frowned at him, taking the pup back into his arms. "Goodbye." He said curtly, turning to leave.

 

But Harry called after him, "Fixing the pup won't make you strong."

 

"Thinking you understand me, won't make you smart." And then he was gone.

...

The pup looked good.

 

Significantly bigger than last time, more fur, eyes open, and Harry gave it a check up. He smiled inwardly, Zayn was more than capable, the pup was in perfect condition. His tail was wagging eagerly, as he kept trying to get back to Zayn who grinned down at him. Harry kept pulling him back, checking his ears. "He looks good."

 

"So we can go?" The shorter boy asked shortly.

 

Harry sighed, shoulders slumping, "Listen mate, last time, if I said something that touched a nerve, I'm sorry, it wasn't my intention."

 

"Then what was your intention?" Zayn frowned, "You obviously think I view myself as the runt of the litter, and you thought that by pointing it out you could achieve- what? What could you have possibly achieved?" He tugged at his thin black sweater, and that's when Harry saw it on his wrists. Cuts; old, faded.

 

"You self-harm..." he said quietly, and the puppy stilled on the counter.

 

Zayn didn't bother to hide them, but clenched his jaw. "I don't."

 

Harry looks at him incredulously, "I'm not blind-"

 

"It's self-harm if you do it to yourself, yeah?" Zayn challenged, quirking an eyebrow. "I didn't do it to myself. I'm not suicidal, and I can look after myself-"

 

"That's just it," Harry said quietly, letting the pup fight it's way towards Zayn's welcoming arms. "You shouldn't have too. Zayn," he tested the name on his tongue, it felt good. Smooth, like warm honey. "You're looking after Zeus, giving him everything he needs, and more, everything you do for him, is for him. I've never seen a happier, healthier dog, hell, even mine doesn't love me that much, and I've had him for years." 

 

Zayn shoots him a lopsided smile at that, and it warms Harry's heart, "I'm just saying, it's great you're doing all this for your pet, but, you need someone to do it for you."

 

"I'm fine," Zayn said softly. "I can handle it."

 

"I don't doubt that you can," Harry nodded, "But I'd like to convince you of how strong are, if you'll let me."

 

"What?" Zayn frowned, "What do you mean?"

 

"You're not that clueless," Harry grinned, leaning over the counter on his crossed arms, winking, "Let me take care of you,"

 

A flush of colour rose up Zayn's cheeks, and he swallowed. Harry's eyes flashed at the response. Beautiful. "I uh-" he jabbed his finger towards the door, "Gotta go, Har-"

 

"You're not used to being hit on, then?" Harry smirked, and he grabbed a piece of a paper and a pen. "It's a shame, you should be flirted with every day, you're quite breathtaking, Zayn." He slid over the paper with his number on it, "Call me, if you ever feel weak, I can make it go away,"

 

"I'm sorry, Harry," Zayn sighed softly, smiling gently. "I'm not into flings. As inexperienced as I am, I know I don't want a one night stand."

 

Harry grinned easily, "Showing someone how strong they are takes way longer than a night. Sometimes, it takes a lifetime."

 

Zayn quirked his lips into a smile, took the paper, and his puppy, and left.

...

That evening, Harry's phone rang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> an OT5 story is up next! hope you're as excited as I am!


	9. you are the root of my existence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone else could see my flowers, but only you could see my roots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back from the dead? I'm sorry it's been so long my loves I'll explain everything after the chapter but for now please enjoy!!  
> Sorry for grammatical errors!

Nine years old.

 

Zayn was the new kid in town, dark skin and hair with a strange accent to match. He called his father ‘baba’ instead of ‘dad’ and liked to stay inside and paint instead of playing hopscotch or tag with the other kids. The whole class thought he was strange and stopped including him in activities after a week of him declining the offers.

 

After a month of hearing the other kids talk about this supposed ‘strange’ boy, four lads had taken interest. Harry, Louis, Niall, and Liam were known around the school for their excessive energy and close knit friendship, so it was only natural the ravenette was nervous when the group first walked up to him.

 

"Your glasses are bigger than your face," Niall pointed out, and Zayn looked up at him with large wide eyes.

 

"Sorry," he muttered.

 

The blonde frowns, "You don't have to be sorry, I was only saying."

 

Zayn doesn't say anything, head down, hands folded around a large book. The four boys followed him as Zayn continued walking across the playground.

 

"Whatcha reading?" Liam chimes, and Zayn smiles at the tone,

 

"A book."

 

"Tell us!" Harry whined, a pout on his pink lips.

 

Zayn was done for as soon as he saw the expression, "It's called Red Dragon, it's about a Cannibal."

 

"Woaahh...that's awesome! He eats people? Gross! Cool!" Louis exclaimed, with a big grin. His blue eyes seemed even brighter with his excitement.

 

"You can borrow it if you like, I'm almost done." Zayn offered, albeit nervously.

 

Louis rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, "None of us really read that much."

 

If anything, Zayn perks up at the information. "I can read it to you!"

 

9 Years Later.

 

Trisha Malik didn't like the term childhood sweethearts. She liked loads of other stuff, like true love and love at first sight, but childhood sweethearts, she never really got, until Zayn met those four boys.

 

Technically, they'd only been in a relationship for 2 years, but realistically, they'd been in a relationship since they were 9 years old. They all grew like plants, around each other, and the taller they got, the more they relied on the other. The more twisted and entangled and co-dependant they became; until no one else could possibly understand the bond. They got teased that it bordered on incest- but it wasn't like that. It had never been like that. Zayn was all they had, and those fours raucous boys were all Zayn had. Although, the power balance between the five wasn't as equal as they'd always like.

 

They all got taller, but the other lads got stronger, faster, as opposed to Zayn's wit and intelligence. Liam became leader of the basketball and rugby teams. Harry was the top competitor on the swim team. Louis became the captain of the football team, with Niall as his co-captain and founder of the golf club. They also went into the theatrics side, taking most of the lead male roles and solos in the male’s choir. And as their extracurricular activities grew, so did their popularity. Sure, Louis, Liam, Niall, and Harry had their pick of friends, but they always chose Zayn Malik.

 

However, the short introvert did not have his pick of friends. He had only the four. And honestly? He was fine with that. He liked it. He liked knowing that the boys would always pick him, despite the fact they could have anyone. He didn't mind only having Harry or Louis or Liam or Niall- because they were all he needed. He didn't want a host of friends, he wanted them.

 

The downside, however, to the all of them being plants, to having grown around each other, and twisting their stems and tangling their leaves, was that it was impossible to grow apart, without dying. And unfortunately, they had their hearts set on different sides of the sun. Zayn wanted to go to a University on the coast, for Art and English, and Louis, Niall, Harry, and Liam had a sports scholarship to a University in the city centre. Too far apart. No alternative.

 

"Our school would offer a really good Arts programme, Zee," Harry says softly, 18 years old, he sits at his desk, finishing the last of his overdue homework. Zayn's sprawled out on Harry's bed, on his stomach, reading, legs crossed and in the air, his ever growing black hair flopping messily into his eyes.

 

"My school would offer really good physical education programmes," Zayn counters knowing the other three are just outside the door with their ears pressed to the door. Despite their efforts of being sneaky, the Pakistani lad knew they were listening. “And you lot out there can come in now, you're just making yourselves look ridiculous.”

 

The other three shuffle in sheepishly, all settling themselves somewhere amongst the room as Harry glares at the ceiling, and he doesn't know what to do. He loves Zayn, they all do. They’ve loved him way before the four started dating at 16, loved him ever since he met him. Zayn was...he doesn't mean to sound like an 18th Century lord, but Zayn was theirs.

 

Everyday, he’s reminded of that fact, that Zayn is his, and Louis’, and Liam’s, and Niall’s. Influenced by them. Zayn loved them, and they loved Zayn, and it was the five of them against the world because- _they_ got there first. Zayn's beauty is unmarred by anyone. Zayn is the purest thing any of them have ever had. And he's theirs. Completely. Enveloped by their hearts, Zayn Malik belongs to the four lads, and they belong to Zayn Malik.

 

"I don't know, mate," Harry sighs, looking at the ceiling. "Let's talk about it after prom."

 

"I'm not going to prom."

 

"Yes you are," Harry shrugs, "You're going with us."

 

Zayn looks up, irritated, "I said I wasn't going."

 

"Zed," Liam sounds surprised by his tone, the four of them know Zayn better than anyone.

 

They know everything about him and they mean- _everything_. Meaning in the way that someone you've been around for 9 years of your life, who's seen you get your first haircut, seen you buy your first pairs of glasses, who's helped you buy jeans and swimming trunks. There isn't an inch of Zayn Malik that they haven't seen, and vice versa, and it makes their bond stronger because after seeing everything- they still want each other.

 

"Of course you're going, everyone goes to prom." Louis supplies.

 

"Evidently not." Zayn sits up, tugging at his sweater and crossing his legs, book abandoned. "I don't want to go." His voice is firm, but it has a glimmer of an edge too, a glimmer of anger.

 

"Why?" Niall questions, finally tired of Zayn denying them with no reason.

 

"Because we don't have to go everywhere together!" Zayn snaps, he's properly angry now, and he runs his hand through his hair, "Christ you guys! We do everything together! We go everywhere together! It's been 9 years, and there hasn't been a single day where I've been without you!" The flower is jerking. He stands, picking up his book, shaking his head. "I'm going to my University, and you're going to yours, and I'm not going to prom, and you are."

 

Louis’ angry now too, he stands, shaking his head, "Zayn, you're our-"

 

"Boyfriend? Bestfriend? Brother?" Zayn spits, "Let's face it, Lou, I'm all those things to you, to all of you. Do you know how sick that is?" His voice breaks, "Do you know how sick we are?"

 

"Zee, there is nothing wrong with u-"

 

"Everything is wrong with us!" He roars at the top of his voice, "Everything! Everything is so- it's so fucking wrong!" And the profanity sounds so wrong. Just like them, apparently. "Christ," he rubs his face, trembling. "I don't wanna see you anymore." They all freeze, can't move, as Zayn begins hacking at his own stem to get away from the tangled mess they are. "I want to see a world without you four in every view point."

 

"Someone said something to you," Harry whispers, but he can't move. "Whatever they said to make you act like this, Zed, they don't know us, you can't let them influence you."

 

"But Mr. Cowell's right though?" Zayn challenges and Louis groans, their stupid English teacher, he should have guessed. He's never liked how close the five boys were. "You won't let me go to the University that you know is best for me. You...you force me into situations I'm not comfortable with-"

 

"Zayn, forcing you to interact with people at prom, isn't the same as forcing someone to do something they don't want! It's not gonna hurt you, we’re helping you-" Liam is inevitably cut off.

 

"Do you think it'll go on forever?" Zayn asks, opening the door, shaking his head wistfully. "It won't. I'm breaking up with you. _All_ of you. I'm making my own choices."

 

Niall's eyes widen as he realises, "You're gonna hook up with someone else?"

 

Zayn looks down, nostrils flaring. And he does look slightly guilty, but he nods. "Yes."

 

"W-" he can't breathe, "Why?!"

 

"I need to see," Zayn whispers, "What's it's like, to be with someone else."

 

"No." And Liam looks beyond pissed.

 

"Li-"

 

"No." It’s Louis this time who denies him.

 

"Well," Zayn half smiles, "It's a good thing I broke up with you, or then you'd still be able to tell me what to do, right?" The door slamming behind Zayn is the ripping of the stem that holds them together. Five flowers wilting to the ground, slowly dying.

 

"Zayn-" Niall croaks out lowly through the closed door, and they know Zayn is still outside, "Who said they wanted to be with you?"

 

There's silence for a long moment, before Zayn replies, "Danny."

 

Anger flashes through the Doncaster lad as Harry makes a hurt noise, "And he's better than us now?"

 

"No," They can almost hear Zayn shaking his head, "No one will ever be better than you lot, I'm just saying, I want someone different than you. It's like I've been eating the same dish every day for the past 9 years, and now you're telling me to go to your university so I can keep eating the same dish for another 3 years, and then we'll finish, and you'll talk me into getting the same job so for the next 40 years, so I can keep eating away, and I will," His voice breaks, "Because I love you." Heavy breathing followed by a choked sob, "Please don't make me eat the same dish."

 

"You want to try other food?" Harry asks as though, he finally understands.

 

"...Yes." And then he’s gone.

...

...

...

Niall remembers when they all first kissed Zayn.

 

They were 12, and had done it, just to see what it was like. It hadn't felt like anything, just awkward, and they'd all burst into a fit of giggles. At 16, they kissed again, but this time like 16 year olds. Zayn on the blonde’s lap kissing hungrily, passionately, loudly, skilfully, experienced only with each other. Niall remembers the other three walking in, and at first, they were all a little embarrassed. But afterwards there was grinding, everyone tumbling towards the bed, lips against all the skin they could reach, and hands fumbling with clothes to reveal even more skin, never once breaking away from each other, even to breathe.

 

And he remembered that Zayn Malik officially became theirs.

 

So naturally, they followed him. And listened to him on a date with Danny, deep in the forest that grew by their town.

 

"I'm glad you decided to try, Zayn," Danny says softly, as they both sit on a picnic blanket, they all watch and listen, hidden amongst the brush. "They were taking over you."

 

"I didn't come here to speak badly about them," Zayn reminds, a frown on his perfect face, as he drinks some wine. It’s white, Louis notes, knowing that Zayn much preferred red, and that makes pride stir in his chest because this bloke will never know Zayn like they do.

 

"I know, baby," Danny whispers, and Liam growls at the term of endearment.

 

Zayn doesn't have any friends aside from them- and then Danny. It had been a mistake on their part, when they were 17 and joining all the clubs and sports, Zayn had been alone. Danny had swooped in, and it was too late to cut Zayn off from him. Danny was like...another plant, but this one was like a parasite. He offered different nutrients than any of the other four, a different support, and they hadn't been there when Zayn needed them, but Danny was. And now, try as they might, they couldn't detach the small tangle the two had with each other. They'd hoped it wouldn't amount to anything serious. They were wrong.

 

"You want to try something different," It’s Niall who growls this time and they both turn with a frown.

 

"What was that?" Zayn whispers.

 

And Danny looks around, before shrugging, "Probably a wolf."

 

Zayn has to laugh at the casualness, "So you don't mind getting mauled by a wolf?"

 

"Come on, wolves are our friends, haven't you ever seen Games of Thrones?"

 

"Those wolves killed people!" The Pakistani boy clicks his tongue.

 

"Right..." Danny frowns, "Maybe I haven't ever seen Game of Thrones."

 

Zayn shoves him with a laugh, and Danny revels in the touch, roots moving greedily. "You should read Game of Thrones."

 

"And you should get a face tattoo."

 

"You're insane," Zayn laughs again, loud and free in the forest, tongue pressed against his teeth but his eyes don’t squint like they do when he giggles at one of Harry’s lame jokes. He lies back on the blanket, Danny lies beside him, and runs a thumb thoughtfully over Zayn's stubble covered jaw, the leaner male rolls his eyes.

 

"Try all you like Danny, but I am not getting a tattoo on my face. Besides, that means I would have to shave off my beard, I take pride in this y’know." And they do know. Zayn was right pissed when Louis completely shaved it off while the younger boy was sleeping as a prank (mind you that Zayn put pink hair dye in his shampoo as revenge, it didn’t come out for weeks).

 

Danny hums lightly as he shields Zayn’s body with his own, prepared to tangle even further, "Wait- does that mean you don't have any chest hair?"

 

"Are you just gonna make fun f’me?" Zayn huffs, as Danny begins slowly pushing up Zayn's green sweater that matches the grass around them, he reveals smooth, ink covered tanned skin, and splays his large hand on top of the intricate designs.

 

"Holy shit, Zayn. You're fucking beautiful," he runs his fingers over Zayn's nipples watching them pebble and harden, and leans up, hovering above the flushing artist’s face. "Can I kiss you?"

 

Zayn nods.

 

And just- no. They can't let it happen.

 

Liam and Louis run out, the others close behind trying to stop the idiots before they do something brash. But it’s too late as they knock Danny off Zayn, sending all of them tumbling down a steep hill, throwing punches. Zayn is tugged up by a certain blonde, Harry fixing his shirt before he swats them away and quickly runs after the three who were probably at each other’s necks by now. Through brambles and branches, and sees Liam and Louis, punching Danny over and over, and Danny kicking at Liam as he lands a hit on Louis’ face, able to hold his own in a fight.

 

"I didn't do anything wrong!" Danny yells, and it makes the two of them still. "He dumped _you_ . _He chose_ to come here! You can't hit me without any good reason!"

 

Liam falters again mid swing, and he turns, lip split, blood down his chin, to look at Zayn, who's watching with wide eyes, "Zed..."

 

"Get off him you two," Zayn warns, and they obey, standing, hands up in innocence, and Danny fights for his breath. "If-" Zayn swallows, "If I was with Danny, is there any way I could ever be with you again? Or would you not want me anymore?"

 

"I'll always want you," Louis whispers, shaking his head. "Always. Sleep with Danny, let him fuck you, I would always want you, all four of us would."

 

Zayn stands in the fragmented light from the forest, flickering his eyes between the four lads who he grew up with, who looked at him like he was the only person that mattered, and who are looking at him like that now. And his hazel eyes fill with tears as he turns to Danny, who nods like he understands, picking himself up and squeezing the darker boy’s shoulder as he walks away. Zayn could never truly cut the stem, and Danny would never properly tangle.

 

Honey eyes then turn to them, pinning the four in place. "I don't know why I complained about the same meal everyday, when the meal is perfect."

 

Niall gives him a surprised, hopeful grin, "Really?"

 

"I'm sorry," Zayn shakes his head at himself, hands gripping his arms as he looks down at his feet. “I should have never said those things to you, I should have realized what I had was as good as it gets, that you lot are as good as it gets. And you’re all too good for me, and I’m so, so sor-” Arms are around him before he can finish, warmth surrounding him completely

 

"It's alright," Liam whispers into his hair, "It's alright."

 

“I’m a selfish twat,” Zayn murmurs as he feels Harry rubbing his back, Liam’s hand in his hair, Niall’s lips on his jaw, and Louis’ warm breath as he huffs out a chuckle.

 

“That you are,” It earns that sandy haired lad a weak hit to the chest and a watery laugh from all of them, “But so are we.”

 

It's a sacrifice for them, but they attend Zayn's chosen University. It's a sacrifice for Zayn, as they travel from country to country with his boyfriends new career choice as musicians. It's sacrifice after sacrifice, but each one is necessary, and each one is loved. They need each other. A true need. They're happy as they are, and they don't need anyone else's input. They are everything to one another, and nothing else matters. They argue, and they fight, and sometimes one tries to claw for freedom, but they come to realise that despite the fact that they're chained to one another, they're freer than everyone.

 

It's a hurtful, needy, loving system.

 

But hey, it works.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I know this is probably shite, but I still hope you liked it! I was supposed to upload this months ago but I got caught up in school and work and I've been working on a new story since my last one didn't exactly go the direction I wanted it to. I'm sure I'll have the first two chapters up soon but until then I'll update this series as much as I can! Thank you so much for all of the lovely comments and support, enjoy the rest of your day darlings!


	10. like 'em pretty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One where Zayn is a BAU profiler and Louis is a firefighter but if there's one thing they have in common, it's saving lives-
> 
> And maybe Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for any grammatical errors! Please enjoy reading loves!

"I'm not sure about this, Harry," Zayn frowned as the bubbly brunette tugged at his waistcoat, and ran his fingers through Zayn’s hair. "I mean, a blind date? I'm not so great even when the person has already met me."

 

"Oh hush, Zed," he murmured, examining him, "He's the nicest guy you could meet."

 

Zayn stared at him, unamused. "Harry, is this gonna be like last time-"

 

"How long are you doing to hold that over me?" Harry pouted, dusting Zayn off. "How was I supposed to know that he was a stalker?" Zayn rolled his eyes and Harry hugged him tightly, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "It'll be great."

...

...

...

"What's he like, Hazza?" Louis asked, lounging on the curly haired bloke’s sofa that same morning.

 

"He's exactly how you like them," he called from the kitchen, walking in with a sandwich and a mug of tea, a smirk on his pink lips, "Very pretty."

 

He smiled "I do like 'em pretty,"

 

"Yeah, but Lou seriously," he sat beside him on the sofa, "Remember, this is not a one night stand. Alright? You're not using this boy. He's my friend, and so if you're not gonna be serious about this, you're not gonna do it at all."

 

"Yeah, yeah," he shrugged "So what's his experience like?"

 

"No experience." Harry sighed, running his fingers through soft brown locks. "Like, no experience. He's absolutely great, sexy as hell, but he doesn't even know it Louis, he's brilliant but his social skills...ah, you'll grow to love him."

 

Louis rolled his eyes, "Better not be another wild goose chase, Harry,"

...

...

...

"Well," Louis sighed, sitting at the bar of the fancy restaurant, "Let me know if a man named Zayn Malik arrives, then set up our table, alright?" the woman nodded, making a note, and a chuckle from beside him had Louis turning. To see a young man, dressed in a white shirt, purple tie and grey waistcoat with tight black jeans. His inky hair styled up into a quiff, the side shaved, emphasizing his razor sharp cheekbones and bright hazel eyes.

 

"I'm Zayn Malik," he murmured, waving slightly, "And I'm gonna guess you're Louis Tomlinson, if Harry's fashion sense is anything to go by," he gestured to Louis's shirt, the exact same shade of purple as his tie.

 

Louis laughed, eyes running up and down the lithe man. "Louis Tomlinson, nice to meet you mate, Harry was right, you are very pretty." God damn, look at that flush. He is inexperienced. Louis found himself unexplainably aroused as they were led to their table, sitting down, Zayn rolled his sleeves up to his elbows "So, you work for the FBI stationed in London?"

 

"Yeah, the BAU, the United Nations thought it might be a good idea to set up more units here.” His accent made something warm pool in Louis’ stomach, like a warm cuppa in the morning, and he found himself clinging to each word. “And Harry tells me you work as a firefighter?”

 

“Yeah, didn’t think it was something I wanted to do at first, but my buddy Liam convinced me and I fell in love with saving people’s lives.” Louis explained, the other nodding his head like he understood.

 

They both look up when the waitress arrives, showing them the menu. Zayn orders quietly, and Louis wishes the kid would be more confident. He orders himself a steak and any kind of wine, because he doesn’t care. “How do you know Harry?”

 

Zayn laughed, and the sound was contagious, eyes crinkled as they lit up and tongue pressed against the back of his teeth. “He found me making myself coffee and ordered that I stop putting so much sugar in it. Yelled at me for at least 15 minutes about how he cared about me, and I should start eating healthier and taking care of myself, that I couldn’t be keeling over from a sugar rush.”

 

“Nah babe,” Louis rolled his eyes, “You need some more meat on your bones. You’re too thin.”

 

“Doesn’t matter how much I eat, and of what, I just can’t put anything on,” he sighed, gesturing to Louis’s muscles, “I’m fine with not being all muscled and toned, as long as I can outrun the suspect, everything’s fine.”

 

Louis laughed loudly, nose crinkling as he sipped some of the wine, encouraging Zayn to do the same, “So how does that work? Profiling? Can you do it to me?”

 

Zayn squared his shoulders, as if accepting the challenge, and Louis grinned, mimicking him, so they’re both leaning across the table, ready. “Alright…” Zayn laughed, golden eyes sparkling, even in the dim lighting. “I’ll just have to take out the murderer part of the profiler.”

 

“Might help,” The sandy haired lad hummed, amused already.

 

“Okay…so, strong, physically capable, alpha male tendencies, so- most likely proud and protective.” Louis nodded, watching Zayn work his magic, it was kinda fascinating, “You’re comfortable with the way you look, so much so that you would allow Harry to dress you, which is, you know, _always_ risky. And also shows that you trust him. But the trust seems rare so…it probably takes a lot to earn it. Someone probably hurt you in childhood.” He noticed Louis stiffen, and so moved on, an apologetic look on his angelic face. “The tattoos up your arms and across chest, Harry told me, shows high pain tolerance and that you think things through. Smart, highly trained, determined.”

 

“You could just make all that up,” Louis shrugged, “ But I wouldn’t want to disagree with anything you just said.”

 

“Alright,” Zayn smirked at the teasing, “You have a dog.”

 

Louis frowned, “Alright mate, how’d you know that?”

 

“Profiling powers.” The ravenette giggled, licking some wine off his lips.

 

“No seriously, how did you know?”

 

But Zayn continued, “You have at least six sisters.”

 

Louis’s eyes widened “Did Harry tell you that?”

 

“Nope,” Zayn laughed at the look on his face, smiling apologetically at the waitress as she set their stuff down, he picked up his knife and fork, which sparkled silver. “I told you, I profile people. And I’m kinda good at my job,”

 

Louis pursed his lips, impressed, and they tucked in. “So…what’s my favourite colour?”

 

“Red.”

 

“Wrong.”

 

“It was a guess,” Zayn shrugged nonchalantly.

 

Louis laughed, chewing thoughtfully, “So, Harry tells me you don’t date much, why not? Seem like a catch. Unless there’s a serial killer hiding under that waistcoat?”

 

“I just…” he sighed, “I’m not great in social situations. I think I tend to miss a lot of social cues, like when someone wants to avoid talking about something. Plus…I’m not really that interesting.”

 

Louis fell sombre at the honesty in the boy’s voice. As if he actually believed the things he was saying, and wasn’t looking for attention. He was honest. Louis’s heart tightened slightly; “Harry says I’m not allowed to mess up with you.”

 

“Oh,” he grinned knowingly, “You’re that type of guy,”

 

“What? You calling me a dog, Zayn?”

 

“Hmm, I’m calling you the type of guy who doesn’t even have to wink to get a beautiful girl on their arm each night.”

 

Louis winked “I think you mean beautiful guy,”

 

“Same thing.”

 

And damn if that wasn’t attractive. Not an ignorant bone in that boy’s body. Louis found himself unexplainably pulled towards it. “Harry set us up because he thought you were my type.”

 

Zayn frowned, tracing the rim of his wine glass with his index finger thoughtfully. “Am I?”

 

“Almost.” Louis admitted “I mean, physically, you’re everything I want.” Zayn couldn’t contain the shudder that shook through him at the words, and Louis smirked knowingly, “But I think I look for someone a little more…I don’t wanna use the word ‘experienced’ but-”

 

“No worries,” Zayn reassured him, taking a small sip of his wine and straightening his collar, “It’s actually a human reflex. We want someone we know can handle everything we have to give, and that sort of response is built up through experience and age. It ensures that the person understands everything, and you’re not having to teach them as you go,”

 

Louis clicked his tongue softly, a small smile playing on his lips, “So I’m not going home with you tonight,”

 

Zayn returned his smile, a perfect eyebrow arching. “I’d be a little offended if you even thought I’d let you.”

 

Louis laughed, nodding “Touché kid.” The boy was getting more impressive as the night wore on.

 

But the night eventually came to an end. And they both left the restaurant, into the cool night air. Zayn jammed his hands into his pockets, smiling, “This was fun,”

 

“Yeah,” he looked down at Zayn thoughtfully, “Damn shame you aren’t more experienced. You’re so pretty.”

 

Narrowed honey orbs turned up at him,“Should I be offended by that adjective?”

 

“I wouldn’t.”

 

And they said their goodbyes. But that’s when Louis heard the screeching of fast moving tyres. A maniac tearing down the road, the road that Zayn had just crossed. Louis found himself running, sprinting, and he was tackling Zayn off of the road mere seconds before the truck would have killed him. They collapsed together on the concrete, breathing heavily, Zayn coughing heavily from having the wind knocked out of him, and there was blood on his forehead.

 

“Shit!” Louis cried, lifting him up, cradling his head to his chest. “Zayn!”

 

Zayn whined, opening his eyes to see Louis above him, who sighed in relief, and he was helped gently to his feet, Louis’ strong, capable hands, never leaving his shoulders. “Where’d that truck come from?”

 

“God, I should have got his license plate down. Zayn, he was going way too fast-“

 

“You pushed me out of the way,” Zayn breathed in shock, looking up, eyes wide with wonder, “You saved my life. You risked your life to save me.”

 

Louis looked down, voice caught, until he saw the blood. “Fuck Zayn, you’re bleeding!”

 

“I think I hit my head,” he murmured, touching it gently and wincing, “It’s alright, just a small cut.”

 

“There’s a lot of blood-“

 

“Technically, in cases of cuts, it’s areas above the shoulders that are going to lose more blood, simply because the area of skin is smaller and the brain is situated there so blood flow is increa-“ he stopped at Louis’s look, and grinned, “It looks worse than it is.”

 

Louis stepped back, but hovered, “Do you need anything, a hospital?”

 

“I’ll be fine.” Zayn nodded, peeling off his waistcoat and holding it to the cut, “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine by morning.”

 

“You might have a concussion.” Louis sighed, running a hand through his sandy brown hair. “I don’t wanna leave you alone. At least let me walk you home.”

 

It was a good thing he did too, because as soon as they got to Zayn’s apartment, the kid literally collapsed on the floor. Louis carried him to his bed, checking the wound, and opening Zayn’s eyes, checking for signs of a concussion, before getting comfortable on the sofa.

 

He was awoken early in the morning, by the smell of eggs and pancakes, and he frowned, sitting up, to see Zayn handing him a plate with a smile. “Turns out you did go home with me.”

 

Louis chuckled, taking the plate, “Nice place man,”

 

“I like it,” Zayn nodded, sitting down with a tired sigh, “Thank you Louis, for last night, seriously. You saved my life.” Louis smiled.

 

“It’s fine mate, don’t sweat it.” He groaned suddenly, “God, what are we gonna tell Harry about the date?”

 

Zayn frowned, “We’ll tell him the truth? That we liked each other but decided to be friends?”

 

“No! If we do that he’ll never stop hounding me about it!” he set down his plate, thinking. “Alright, we’ll just tell him it went well, we kissed and headed back to my place, but you backed out.”

 

The younger pouted, “Hey! Why do I have to be the one to back out? Why can’t you?”

 

“Because that’s insane.”

 

Zayn rolled his eyes, and then cried out at the pain it caused his head. Louis was in front of him in a flash, massaging his temples with gentle thumbs, “Rapid eye movement after experiencing a concussion is painful.”

 

“You knew it, but you still did it,” Louis scolded, a frown on his lips.

 

Zayn looked down at him, breathing stilted, “Hey Louis?” the taller lad hummed, crouched in front of him still smoothing his thumb over the pained area.

 

“What if we don’t lie to Harry? Tell him we kissed at the end of the date but didn’t feel anything, and so went our separate ways?” And then Zayn was leaning forward, pressing his lips to Louis’.

 

It was like nothing Louis had ever felt before.

 

He didn’t want to sound like a schoolgirl, and it wasn’t fireworks he experienced- but fire itself. Hot and blazing and passionate, and intoxicating him. He was leaning forward roughly, ruled by arousal, hands gripping Zayn’s hips, sliding his tongue in between coffee tasting lips.

 

Zayn pulled back, panting for breath, and Louis kissed down his jaw.

 

“W-what about my experience?” he stuttered

 

“Turns out you don’t need it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next one might be longer but i make no promises! all the love, thank you for reading!!


	11. got you wrapped around my little finger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you don't own me, that's not what love is! you know that. this is a relationship, not a dictatorship, even if this place we're in is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly been watching too much criminal minds and investigation shows... anyways enjoy my loves, sorry for any grammatical errors!

"Here's your new room mate, Payne," The guard chuckled cruelly, gripping a young man by his arm, and throwing him into the cell, where he collapsed onto the floor. "Have fun with this one, before the others do." And he was gone.

 

Liam glared daggers into the back of his head, from where he sat on the bunk, in a white tank top and orange jumpsuit rolled down to his hips, muscles gleaming with sweat after exercising all day, before turning to look at the new guy. First thing Liam sees, is that he's small. The orange jump suit is loose fitting, and shows a lot of his neck, the tattoos that dance across his collarbone. He gets to his feet quickly, rubbing at his wrists, and straightens himself out. That's when Liam sees his face.

 

Bright, glittering hazel eyes, blaring innocence and naivety- and fuck, that'll get him killed in here. With those pouting pink lips and delicate nose. Gorgeous face with sharp cheekbones and an even sharper jawline framed by soft, messy black locks- he'll be claimed immediately. But at least he'll be taken care of, he's too pretty to be messed up. They'll be gentle with him. Liam finds some small comfort in that. He stands, to soothe him, and the boy steps back, growling.

 

"Come near me and I'll kill you."

 

Liam laughs, because the threat looks so bizarre coming from someone so fragile and kind. "Like hell you woul-"

 

"I have an IQ of 182, 7 Doctorates, 6 BA's and I worked as a surgeon for 3 years. My knowledge of the human body rivals no other and I could kill you with my little finger. Painlessly, or otherwise. Do not come near me." Those honey eyes, so sweet before, are now narrowed at the tall brunette.

 

Liam stops then. Actually steps back a little, and he's a tiny bit impressed. He just might be able to hold his own in here after all. "Alright love," he appeases, "Okay. Don't mess with you, I get it. I wasn't gonna touch you anyway. How'd you get in here?"

 

"I killed my step-father." He looks at Liam through new, inquiring eyes, "You?"

 

"Bar fight got out of control. I messed up some people real bad. They died in hospital. I'm Liam. And a word of advice, mate? Get claimed quick. I'd pick Niall, he'd be good to you, wouldn't let anyone touch a pretty boy like you. You could get out of here unscarred."

 

The boy held his head up indignantly, arms crossing over his lithe chest, "I refuse to sell myself. I'll leave here unscarred, and without having been claimed, or owned by  _ anyone _ ." He realises his words are bitter, and swallows slightly, "I'm sorry, Leeyum I just...I'm tired."

 

"First day," Liam layed on his bed refusing to show how much the lad saying his name affected him, and gestures to the top bunk for Zayn, who climbs up, his weight barely pressing the mattress down. 

 

"What's your name?" he asks into the darkness. "Well, not your name. What do you want to be called?"

 

Silence for a moment. 

 

"M’Zayn."

...

...

...

3 MONTHS LATER

 

Liam punched Shahid right in the gut, as he cowered in the corner, pleading like a child, "You ever." A kick to the ribs, "Come near him again-"

 

"I get it!" The lad wheezed, breathing in deeply, "Fuck! I didn't realise you'd claimed him, Liam! I didn't! I didn't!"

 

Liam spat at him in disgust, glaring at the crowd of inmates, before heading inside, and down the duty steel corridors to the library, where he saw Zayn, speeding through another book. Completely unharmed. The ravenette looked up from behind his glasses, taking in the bruises on Liam's arms and clicked his tongue, closing the book. 

 

"I thought I told you not to go after Shahid." he whispered, running his soft, cool hand gently over Liam's burning skin, 

 

Liam kisses his forehead softly, "He came at you, Zayn."

 

"I was being stupid- I didn't realise he was behind me-"

 

"Zayn." Liam curses quietly, fixing the younger boy with a firm look, "I told you, when you're not with me, you're here, in the library."

 

"Leeyum,” the ravenette mocks the other, “If I'd wanted to, I could have killed him, but I didn't. I just ran away-"

 

"You managed to  _ get _ away. Christ, think of what he would have done. Having you bent over like tha-" Liam growled, about ready to go back and give the piece of shit more of what he had coming to him.

 

"You don't have to baby me, Li, I know how to defend myself." He stood, visibly hurt, "You haven't claimed me, and sometimes I think you forget that. We're in a relationship, one of us doesn't own the other."

 

"I know that, baby boy," Liam whispers, pleading, because he hates it when Zayn goes all genius on him, he makes it as though he doesn't have any secrets in the whole world. Leaves the far more muscular man unarmed and vulnerable. "I just want to let people think that so they don't bother you. That was the idea, right?"

 

Zayn's shoulders sag slightly, and he nods, "Yeah, I know. Come on, we should clean up that cut. Might get infected."

 

"With you around, Doc? Never."

  
And Zayn has to quirk a smile at that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you couldn't tell zayn's intelligence was inspired by Spencer Reid! I hope you enjoyed, thank you so much for reading!


	12. hole in one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm c-close," Zayn breathed, Harry's hard aching member filling him perfectly, "Please, please, please, please..."
> 
> "Not yet," Harry hissed, thrusting harder and harder, before coming deeply inside Zayn, burying his cum, and thrusting through it. "Now." And Zayn came with a cry, his own member neglected and untouched, shaking with the force. 
> 
> "Good boy," Harry breathed, biting down hard on Zayn's shoulder "My good boy."
> 
> "There's a ball digging into my back," Zayn mumbled, but made no effort to move, and Harry grinned.
> 
> "Hole in one huh?" Zayn groaned.
> 
> "Harry?" The other hummed at his name, "Shut up."
> 
> "Good idea."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thought I might indulge your dirty minds for a change, so, please enjoy xx
> 
> sorry for any grammatical errors!

Strip Pool.

 

It's kinda, a lot, like ( ~~exactly like~~ ) strip poker.

 

They're in Harry's large, light basement, but the lights have been dimmed, to match the gentle music coming from the radio. The large, felt green pool table already set up; they were about halfway through the game, Zayn was in his shirt and jeans, hoodie having come off, along with his shoes and socks. Harry was down to his faded, black skinny jeans.

 

"This really isn't fair," the taller man sighed, pouting and leaning on his cue as he watched Zayn circle the table, "You started off with way more clothes than me. I've only missed two shots, and here I am flashing you everything, you've missed three shot, and I'm still not seeing skin."

 

Zayn smirked, examining the position of the white ball in relation to the red one. "I look better with clothes, you look better without. Plus, pool is all about math."

 

"Is that why you've lost four points?"

 

"Luck." Zayn chimed and Harry chuckled, watching Zayn bend over table, knocking the cue forward and the red ball slid seamlessly into the pocket. He beamed, stepping back, and Harry stepped forward, admiring the new position. "Why'd you buy this pool table again?"

 

"Because I love to see you bent over," He grinned as Zayn flushed, looking away, "You know I've seen you naked, yeah? You’ve nothing to be embarrassed about, you're beautiful." His eyes dipped up and down his smaller boyfriend, his voice soft and fond, "There's nothing to hide, Zaynie. You don't need the modesty around me."

 

"I know," Zayn sighed, running his hands through his ungelled hair, "I just- it's not you, and it's not that I'm self conscious, I just- I don't like it."

 

Harry readied himself for the next shot, and just as he hit it, Zayn spoke up again.

 

"I like it when you bite me during sex, though."

 

Harry swore as he missed, looking up at Zayn with a mixture of anger and lust in his eyes, "You did that on purpose." He accused, unbuttoning his skin tight jeans, so he was clad in only his banana covered underwear. Zayn grinned innocently.

 

"Who, me?" He ducked as Harry went to flick his head, the brunette trying to find another shot to make, "But I do mean it, I like it."

 

"Yeah?" Harry asked hopefully, because it was always difficult to find what Zayn liked in bed. He'd never talk about it, and in the bedroom the older boy was so damn responsive to everything it was hard to find out what his favourite things were.

 

"Yeah," Zayn rubbed his hand over a mark on his neck, hidden by that god forsaken shirt, so that Harry couldn't see it. "I like it. I feel..." he frowned, trying to find the right words. "Marked. Protected. Is that wrong?"

 

"No, baby boy," Harry breathed, Zayn's innocence and naivety blaring at him right in the face at times like this. That, for all his intelligence and his age, he needed to be taken care of. "It's not wrong." He leaned down, making his shot, and stepped back, moving to turn up the heat.

 

Zayn made his shot quickly, not really thinking, and missed. He swore under his breath, and started pulling up his beige shirt, ignoring Harry's eyes on him as the tall, handsome musician sipped his fruity drink. Perfectly tanned skin covered in permanent ink, lightly muscled and lithe, and now Harry could see what Zayn was talking about. Marks down the side of his neck, going down to his collar, gentle teeth idents on his shoulders, and a deep, bruising hickey just above his left hip, over the words he’d drunkenly tattooed on his boyfriend’s smooth skin one night.

 

"Fuck." Harry hissed, green eyes darkening.

 

"I know," Zayn ran his hands over the marks, flushing beautifully. "Sometimes you don't even realise you're doing it. ‘S like an instinct or summat." He picked up his cue, lining up a shot, "Get's me really hot." And just as he was about to knock the blue ball into the socket, Harry pressed up behind him, and he sent the ball spiraling to the other side of the table.

 

Zayn groaned, "That's cheating."

 

"You did the same thing to me." The younger chuckled, shooting Zayn a cheeky wink.

 

"Yeah, but I didn't touch you," Zayn reminded, ducking out from under Harry's arms and unbuttoning his jeans, shimmying out of the tight denim fabric so he was just in his boxer-briefs, and Harry grinned, hands on his slim hips to bring Zayn flush against him. "We done with the game?"

 

"Yeah," Harry breathed, hoisting Zayn up and setting him on the pool table, standing in between his legs, pressing their clothed members together. He nosed at Zayn's throat, feeling the smooth, freshly-shaven, bite-able skin, "You're so soft."

 

Zayn blushed and smirked, hand dipping into Harry's underwear, stroking the already hard, throbbing member, "You're hard."

 

Harry closed his eyes, grinning with a snort as he laid his forehead on Zayn’s shoulder, curls ticking the other's neck. "Very funny," He bucked into ravenette's nimble fingers, groaning loudly, "Can we have sex on the pool table?"

 

Zayn kissed Harry's strong jaw, "Do I have a choice?"

 

"Nope."

 

"Then, yes we can."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, it's not a full on smut but we'll get there I promise loves! I hope this satisfied you for now!


	13. pop your bubblegum heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "No fair, that was mine first!"
> 
> "All's fair in love and war, babe."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just something short and sweet, sorry for any grammatical errors! xx

The sound of loud smacking filled the quiet room, which, succeeded to making the popping sound even louder than it really was. Niall tried to ignore the noise his boyfriend caused though, and continued to read the thick book in his hand.

 

The Irish lad was propped up against the back of his bed with his legs stretched and crossed out in front of him. Next to him were another set of legs that were also crossed, but raised in the air. They belonged to Zayn Malik, Niall's hazel eyed, inky haired other half. The ravenette had a pair of Beats headphones over his ears and was listening to music from Niall's mp3 player.

 

Though Zayn looked cute wearing Niall's black sweats that were a size too big and an olive green cropped shirt that showed off delicious soft looking tan skin, Niall could just about shove the boy off the bed from all the loud smacking he was doing.

 

Zayn had found a piece of gum while boredly rummaging around in Niall's room and immediately claimed as his own, hastily and excitedly unwrapping the gum and sticking it into his mouth, as his pack of gum had just run out the day before (he should really stop giving the minty chewing sticks away so carelessly).

 

Now he lay on his stomach, flipping through a new book, thick framed glasses sitting on his nose while listening to the playlist he and his boyfriend had created together (you’re such a sap Neil), and smacking away on the gum. The ravenette blew a bubble, letting it stay before sucking it back into his mouth, making little noises of appreciation before repeating the process.

 

Niall winced at the sound of little air bubbles in Zayn's mouth popping away. He grit his teeth at the annoying and obnoxious sound of gum being chewed between perfectly white teeth. He had a huge Calculus test to study for and the new found chew toy was _not_ helping his patience, thank you very much.

 

_Just ignore it_ , Niall thought to himself and concentrated on his textbook.

 

He inhaled sharply at the sound of a another loud pop.

 

_Ignore it_ . Niall concentrated harder on his book. _Okay, okay, the partial sum of the quadratic equation is-_  
  
****

**_POP!_ **

 

_Tune it out Horan, just tune it out._  
  
****

**_POP!_**

 

**_POPPOP!_ ** Zayn giggled, "It double popped!"

 

Niall slammed his book shut, "Zayn Javadd Malik, if you don’t knock that off!" He sighed harshly at the obvious ravenette. Zayn glanced at him and saw the angry look, frowning as he began to take off his head set.

 

"Somethin’ bothering you, Ni?" After those words were emitted, the boy blew his last bubble. **_POP!_ **

 

Niall lunged at Zayn, knocking the breath out the smaller boy. The blonde pinned Zayn under him with his body, holding down the other's arms with his hands before leaning down to claim Zayn's mouth. Winter mint exploded across Niall's taste buds as he licked over the plump, petal pink lips.

 

Zayn’s breathing stuttered as he squealed out his older boyfriend’s name. Gasping softly as a warm tongue slipped passed his lips into his mouth. Strong hands gripped his, hips pinning his own down to the bed, the cold fingers digging into his warm, flushed skin. He arched up into the body above him as the tongue delved further into his mouth.

 

On his search for the key to his annoyance, Niall decided to tease his ravenette along the way. He tongued his way around inside the sticky mouth, running it over every crevice he could, claiming the boy’s mouth as his. He slid his tongue against Zayn’s, sucking on it softly, causing the helpless lad to moan in response. Niall smirked and gave the roof of Zayn’s mouth a sly lick, dominating the kiss completely.

 

Zayn let his tongue tangle with Niall's, not knowing why his boyfriend was suddenly acting like this, but not really caring. He forgot all about his gum which Niall had just found. The blue eyed blonde sucked the minty thing into his mouth and pulled away in victory.

 

"Ha," he panted out, smirking lips ghosting over Zayn's wet, swollen ones.

 

The ravenette looked up at Niall through askewed glasses, clearly confused. The expression changed to utter disbelief when Niall's gum (that was his!) came out in the form of a bubble from Niall's mouth.

 

"H-Hey!"

 

Niall just laughed and kissed the tip of Zayn's nose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next one might take me a bit since it'll be longer! thank you all so much for the comments and kudos i seriously love you!


	14. actions speak louder than words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liam may not always understand why Zayn chooses to express himself the way he does but, in this case, he finds he doesn't really mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said I would be creating a longer one but it's taking me a bit longer to get the wording correct so for now here's just something short I whipped up so you darlings aren't just sitting on the edge of your seats! 
> 
> sorry for any grammatical errors! please enjoy! xx

Zayn wasn't one who was exactly well _in touch_ with his feelings. He couldn't quite explain how he felt when he felt some way, which usually gave people the impression that he was rude. But Liam, Liam knew differently. The older lad usually expressed his emotions in a unique way, whether it be through his art, his beautiful honey orbs, or through his body language; which could be good or bad, depending on the situation.

 

Liam has countless memories of times where Zayn would show him what he wanted without words. Up until today, Liam's favourite one was when he was sprawled out on his bed reading and Zayn who'd been in the bathroom emerged, looking bashful but determined. There was a light pink dusting his high cheekbones, white teeth chewing on his plump, lower lip as he wrung the too large shirt, presumably Liam’s, in his tattooed hands. The younger male was quite shocked when the ravenette crawled into his lap, straddling his hips, and began attacking his lips with heated eagerness.

 

The shock hadn't lasted long for Liam, and he quickly threw his book somewhere behind him before responding to Zayn's actions and flipped the boy on his back, assaulting the sweet smelling neck and- well, let's just leave it at that.

 

But no longer is that memory on the very top of the list of when his adorable boyfriend used his actions before his words. Recently, it was replaced when the couple went to a small bakery to grab a cuppa earlier that morning, and the young bird behind the counter was heavily flirting with puppy eyed lad.

  
…

That Morning

 

  
"Hello there, how can I help you, _sir?_ " The ginger haired girl practically purred as she locked eyes on the tall brunette.

 

Next to him, Zayn stood oblivious, trying to decide on what he wanted. His whiskey coloured eyes squinting up at the hand written menu, because _of course_ he’d forgotten his glasses again, even though his younger boyfriend had reminded him, _multiple_ times, might Liam add. Liam on the other hand sighed but chose to be at least decent to the girl, giving her the warmest smile he could muster.

 

"What would you like?" The girl, whose name tag read ‘Paige’, leaned forward on the counter and pressed her chest against the edge. Liam tried his best to keep his face neutral, clearing his throat awkwardly. Christ, can someone say _desperate_?

 

"I’ll take a tall iced macchiato with lots of whip cream. Can you add chocolate chips to it?" Liam went on acting like he hadn't seen the bird’s 'make boobs bigger' action.

 

"Of course! Would you like dessert with that?" She chirped, giving her lips a suggestive lick.

 

"No thank you, I just want-" Liam started but the girl surged forward humming.

 

"Me on the side?"

 

Zayn, who had finally decided what he wanted and was now watching the unnerving scene with confusion, thick eyebrows furrowing followed by a downturn of petal pink lips, "What’d she say?"

 

Liam looked at his boy before smiling and drawing him close by the waist. The ravenette came easily, leaning instinctively into his side, letting out a small sigh at Liam’s warmth. Maybe now the girl could see that the Wolverhampton lad was not only uninterested, but also already had his ‘special someone’.

 

Oh, how he was wrong.

 

"I told him that he can have me for dessert." Paige gave a wink, obviously not taking a goddamn hint, and Liam was just about ready to blow his top, or maybe bang his head against a wall, but Zayn just stared at her, and stared, and kept staring. Liam watched Zayn’s hazel eyes go from confusion to apathetic.

 

Though the shorter boy didn't know exactly what she meant by that, it must have had some sort of hidden meaning, and he certainly wasn’t about to ask, but there was a weird feeling in his tummy that was telling him this red headed lass was trying to- christ, what was the word? Liam used to do it all the time to try and get a reaction out of Zayn. Oh yes, hit! She was trying to _hit_ on Liam, and while he was present too.

 

And okay, this did not sit well with the Bradford lad. Liam, still holding Zayn to his side, felt the older boy tense under his arm, and that was the cue for him to speed things up before they went south.

 

"Look, can we just order and-"

 

"Oi lady, could you hurry up?" Voiced an irritated customer behind them.

 

"Of course, as long as you are free tonight?" The girl ignored the customer, only having eyes for Liam at the moment.

 

Liam sighed in frustration before letting a surprised curse fall passed his lips when his shirt was almost ripped from Zayn dragging him down to his height and smashing their lips together. Small fists clenched the front of his shirt, pulling him closer and closer until there wasn't any space between the two lovers. Zayn stood slightly on his tip toes as he angled his head to deepen the kiss.

 

Liam reciprocated all too eagerly, letting his tongue slip between plump, parted lips and into the sweet mouth and wrapped his arm around Zayn's waist, tugging their lower bodies together. Zayn let out an over the top whimper, just in case the girl couldn't tell that the brunette was his, and his only dammit.

 

After some moments of heavy lip locking, the older decided the message was clear and pulled away to glare at the gawking, blushing girl. Zayn gave his whole weight to Liam as he wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s neck and tucked his head against his shoulder. Eyes still locked on the girl, the darker lad let out a very childish, " _Mine_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I kind of exaggerated Zayn's innocence but like innocent Zayn is so cute and he has my heart so you'll be seeing a lot more of him! anyways i hope you like this shirt but sweet chapter, advice is always welcome and requests are still open cause i'm running out of ideas sort of, yikes! love you, thank you again for reading darlings!


	15. note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just a little note to explain what i have planned for the next couple chapters

hello darlings!

so i'm really sorry i haven't updated in like a month but school was talking over my entire schedule; that's over though now since i am on fall break! yayyy I know right? but here is what i plan to get done for this series as well as working on another story, which will hopefully be up by next month, over break (in no particular order)

-everyone at school is scared of zayn except for louis who says that zayn is actually kind and after eating lunch together the slowly become closer. but falling in love is not that easy especially when two people are on opposite ends of the popularity spectrum

-"don't get blood on my floor" (mafia!ziam)

-harry, who has overworked himself and fallen ill, is nursed back to health after almost passing out by a mysterious lad who claims they've met before

-one where niall is the best detective in town and zayn’s way too small for half the guns he uses to save niall

-how veronica actually started (zianourry)

 


	16. sugar covered footprints

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sugar cubes go missing, there are tears in pillows and curtains, pieces of plastic end up on the floor, and Harry knows this is not the work of a mouse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for any grammatical errors darlings, this was kind of a rushed one so you guys didn't have to keep waiting!

"I notice you, you know," fourteen year old Harry Styles whispers from his bed. The shadow behind the tissue freezes. "I saw you earlier today, with the cat. Sorry about that, by the way, it's not my cat, but we can't really tell the neighbours to keep it off our property." Nothing but silence.

 

Harry lets out a disappointed sigh, "You don't need to be scared of me, you know? You dropped your sugar cube, would you like me to pick it up for you? Or would that scare you?" The shadow makes a run for it, there's a very gentle clicking noise, and it's gone. Harry sighs to himself, sitting up in bed and looking at the sugar cube on the floor.

 

The next night, Harry tiptoes down into the kitchen. Steals three sugar cubes, a chunk of bread, a chunk of cheese, small amounts of cloth, some thread, a needle, and a tiny marble pellet he uses like a bowl, that's filled with barely two drops of water. He sets it down on his bedside table, with a folded piece of tissue holding it all together, and waits.

 

Like a dream, he comes.

 

Harry opens his emerald eyes, and sees the tiny person, no bigger than the size of his thumb, much thinner too, standing there, looking between Harry, and the layout spread before him. "Hello," Harry says quietly, "Can you speak?"

 

"Yes."

 

It's not as quiet as Harry expected, it's audible, tinkles like bells. "What's your name?"

 

Hesitation. "Zayn." To Harry's joy, Zayn sits down, and pulls out the cheese and bread, and settles in. It looks huge in his small hands, almost the size of his head. "I can't take these back," he explains, munching away, "The mice would get to me. The smell."

 

"My name's Harry," he sits up, maneuvering the blankets so he's still warm, "What are you?"

 

"A borrower." Is the answer.

 

Harry can barely contain his glee, "My mum used to talk about seeing people, little people, a whole other world in this house, beneath the floorboards, in the vents, in the garden, and the attic, and Dad never believed her." He looks solemn for a moment, "No one did. I wanted to believe, but, what was my opinion? I was a kid." He watches Zayn sip the water. "She died a couple of springs ago, but I never forgot, never forgot about the people she claimed to see. The other world."

 

"Your mother is in our legends," Zayn offers softly, "The barrier bringer, we call her. Way before my time, and my cousins time, my mother and father said there was a girl. Only 6 years old, and it was raining. The borrowers drown in rain that bad, and it crept up, we couldn't leave, the cats had the advantage, and the story goes that your mother," he looks pointedly at Harry, "Came one night, in the rain, and opened an umbrella above the deck, where some of our ancestors lived. She saved their lives."

 

Harry jerks when Zayn stands up, finishing the cheese and bread quickly, he looks as though he hasn't eaten so well in a long time, "Where are you going? Can't you stay-"

 

"We aren't a world anymore, Harry." He sighs, his clothes are made from a piece of felt from a pillowcase Harry realises, but they were tailored so well that he barely noticed.

 

"We borrowers are small in number. Hardly exist anymore. Rain and drought have killed us, lack of food has killed us, cats and mice have killed us, there are but 100 left in this house, when there used to be thousands. I have not seen another family in years." he rubs his face, the other hand gripped tight around the tissue paper that's holding everything. "I thank you for these supplies, but it is against our rules to speak with the humans."

 

"Your family?" Harry whispers, as Zayn turns to leave, "Who are they? What are they like?"

 

Zayn smiles, "My baba is called Yaser, he is kind and loving, my mother is called Trisha, and she is very sick. My older sister is named Doniya and she- she's everything older sisters are, and my two lively little sisters are called Waliyha and Safaa. My two cousins live with me, Liam and Louis, are brothers, their parents were killed by a flood." He shakes his head to himself, "Also, just last week, another borrower came to our door, Niall, he's...wonderful. Not too long and I'm sure he'll be like a brother to me."

 

"You've seen the doll house I bought." Harry looks over at it pointedly, where it rests in all its magnificent grandeur on the other side of Harry's bed, "I had to undergo my sister’s teasing to buy that. My only excuse was that I said one day it would be worth lots."

 

"You bought it for us." Zayn nods, "But it is against the rules-"

 

"Why?"

 

"Because humans are greedy." Zayn draws back, "They start out selfless and kind and giving, but then they get greedy. Soon, they want to tell people of us, they'll take us away, lock us up, experiment on us, bone structures will be on display, you'll take away our freedom for profit, all of you do-"

 

"Did my mother do that?" he counters, and Zayn looks sad.

 

"Your mother was an exception-"

 

"As am I!"

 

"Why?" He snaps, "Because you gave me food and water? You think this is enough to earn trust and peace?" His golden eyes are alight with anger, "I have broken enough rules this night Harry, and I shall break no more!" And with that, he scurries away.

 

Zayn doesn't come back the next night.

 

Or the next.

 

Harry finally must succumb to sleep, till he startles awake at the crack of dawn. And sees him. And another. Two of them. His ears prickle as he listens.

 

"He made you clothes!" The shorter, blonde male squeals, "Oh they're beautiful! Try them on-"

 

"Niall!" Zayn snaps, folding the clothes and pushing them into his bag "Be quiet! He'll wake up!"

 

"Oh, he's an exception to the rule, surely. Clothes, Zayn, he made you clothes, oh and look how thick the material is, you'll never get cold again! You'll let me borrow the scarf sometimes, wont you? And look at all the different colours he used! No more rotten curtain scraps for you-"

 

"Ni, seriously!"

 

"Is that the house?" The bubbly lad whispers, eyes fixed on the dollhouse, Zayn nods, tucking everything into his satchel and placing it over his shoulder. "You never said it was so...beautiful."

 

And it is. The mansion, it's just the right size for them, beautifully painted, proper working furniture, a tiny worker candle fireplace, soft beds with feather mattresses, wardrobes, tiny books with actual words in them, god, that had cost Harry a lot of money, but then again, his family had a lot of money. Look at the mansion he was living in.

 

"Would you like to go inside?" Harry asks, and Zayn groans, but Niall just nods bravely. Harry scampers out of bed and over to them, placing his hand flat on the desk, nodding at them to climb on. Niall gets on faster than light, before Zayn grumbles to himself, climbing on too. And Harry walks in three steps to the dollhouse. The shorter claps delightedly.

 

"Now this is a way to get around!"

 

He sets them at the door, and Niall opens it, and they both walk inside. Harry watches through the windows as they explore. It's clear they both love it.

 

"There's enough room for your entire family," Harry offers, "And I'd make sure no one ever hurt you. I'd bring you food and the cat couldn't get you in here, you could come and go as you pleased, I even got you tiny bikes and skateboards. I'd made you all the clothes you needed, and more, shoes, proper ones, not made of paper, I'd give you everything," his voice is brimming with hope, but Zayn turns to him cynically and Niall sighs knowingly.

 

"And what would you want in return?"

 

"What? Nothing! Nothing, I swear-"

 

"So this is all the goodness of your human heart at work, is it?" Zayn questions, and Harry nods, but honey eyes narrow critically. "You'd want to be our god."

 

"No!"

 

"Then what do you want?"

 

"I want to take care of you! To protect you! I don't want you to go extinct! Come on Zayn, you know a lot about humans, but not all of it. Yes, okay, we shoot animals, and kill them, and skin them, and use them for medicine and clothes and sometimes killing just for fun! But you must have seen adverts? Television? You must have seen the appeals for money, about how we put animals on the endangered species list, how we don't want Pandas to go extinct, how we kick ourselves time and time again for the Woolly Mammoth, though that technically wasn't our fault! Humans do bad things, but we learn from them too! You have my word, my _word_ that I will never harm you. Isn't that enough?"

 

Zayn hesitates, then nods "Yes. It is."

 

* * *

 

Harry loves it.

 

He comes to love every member of the family. He gives Zayn the best room, the one he spent most time on, the one with the most books, and he makes Zayn the most clothes, but he's so good to everyone, the favouritism isn't that obvious. Zayn’s parents get the room right at the top, Louis as it turns out has a girlfriend named Danielle, so they get a bedroom on the second floor, Liam has one, Niall has one, everyone fits nice and snug, with even a few rooms to spare. Doniya stays for a while, before deciding this isn't her place. She thanks Harry, and her family, and disappears.

 

Zayn’s devastated, but the beauty and comfort of the house almost makes up for it. There's a balcony that they come out to if they ever need anything, Harry loves making them dinner. He sneaks a piece of meat from his plate at dinner, cuts it and everyone gets a huge slab to fill their plate.

 

He gets home from school one day, and discovers Freddie. A child. Louis’ and Danielle’'s child. Everyone's fawning over him, and Harry starts work on a crib, baby clothes, and buying a miniature teddy bear.

 

"Hey," Harry whispers, 18 years old now, drifting off, when Zayn appears on his bedside table. "You should be asleep."

 

"You're going to university." He states glumly, and Harry chuckles.

 

"I'm bringing you with me, pretty boy, it's nothing to worry about."

 

"We can't leave this house, Harry," Zayn whispers, shaking his head, "The borrowers species, we live in one place forever. It depends on where you're born, and my family was born here. You can't take us to University, you have to leave us here." He smiles softly, "But you've been perfect. We'll stay in the dollhouse, we can get food for ourselves, we've got better equipment for it now. I just wanted to tell you...how grateful we are."

 

Harry doesn't like this. "I won't go to University, I'll stay, with you guys-"

 

"Don't be silly, go, study, learn, come back with a wife or husband, it'll be great-"

 

"Why are you acting as though you'll never speak to me again?"

 

Zayn swallows, fiddling with his dressing gown. Harry had made it from his own robe, washed and washed it till it was silky soft. "Harry...when you turn 21, on your 21st birthday, you won't be able to see us anymore. It's an evolutionary thing, adults can't see us, or hear us. You'll remember, know where we are, but physically, you won't have a clue." He wipes his eyes with the back of his hands. "I'm sorry."

 

Harry swallows "No. I- No, I can still bring you food, even if I can't see you, I can still-"

 

"You have to move on," Zayn whispers, hugging his knees to his chest, "It's the only way. I didn't want to be the one to tell you, I'm sorry." He smiles, watery "You've been wonderful, though. You're gonna be one of the greatest legends."

 

Harry smiles, "I'll have to buy another dollhouse, attach it to yours so there's room to expand. You might find a girl some day."

 

"Not a girl."

 

"A guy then," Harry hums, and Zayn scoffs softly.

 

"I know it sounds stupid, but I had always hoped it would be you."

 

Harry lifts Zayn into his palm, "Not stupid at all," the tiny lad looks as though he might cry, "I'm not even the right size to kiss you." So instead, he brushes his finger through Zayn's soft, inky hair, watching the borrower lean in towards him and even brushes his lips against Harry's finger. "I love you, Zayn Malik,"

 

"And I you, human. And I you."

 

* * *

 

 

One night, many years later, Harry is walking past his little girl’s room, and he hears her talking to someone. He grins, he knew she'd found them as soon as she'd started sneaking sugar cubes from the kitchen.

 

So the next night he whispers to her, "Ever seen a smart one called Zayn?"

 

She grins, "He says you owe him new glasses, daddy. Says he wants them to be round and gold."

 

Harry laughs, looking around to make sure his wife can't hear, "Is he dating anyone?"

 

"No," she looks thoughtful, "But I honestly don't think he wants too, daddy. He seems happy."

 

And that's all Harry ever wanted for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promise i'm getting there with the other stories it's just hard to focus lately but i swear i'll get them done! i hope you enjoyed though, have a lovely rest of the day! xx


	17. our choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Don't get blood on my floor."
> 
>    
> also, this is dedicated to zayniekins for always making me laugh with their comments! thank you darling!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so here it is! mafia!ziam, i actually had a lot of fun with this because usually people see Liam as a sweet, puppy character (which he is) so it's a nice twist on things, buuut I hope you enjoy! thank you all so much again for the support! x

The scrape of the window sliding up against the frame cut through the sizzling of frying chicken, yet Zayn didn't turn around. There was only one person who came in through that window, as high as three stories above the ground, and the footfalls on the creaky floorboards were the exact ones he'd been expecting.

 

"Don't get blood on my floor."

 

The footsteps halted, as if the person had stopped with one foot still in the air. "How'd you know I was bleeding?" Liam said eventually.

 

"Lucky guess." Zayn went to the fridge, taking out a can of beer for the bloke. "I didn't know you'd be here today."

 

"Louis's back, thank God." Liam took the alcoholic beverage and proceeded to shuffle around in the living room, tell tale thumps of his shoes being slung to the ground. "Tracking down those thieves is a hell of a lot easier when he's around."

 

Zayn poked at the chicken with a spatula. It was browned nicely. Abandoning his cooking and switching off the stove, he looked out of the kitchen entryway and narrowed his eyes when he saw Liam draped over the couch, his arms splayed to either side of him. Blood dripped freely off his chin.

 

"Hmm?" Liam's eyes opened a slit when Zayn approached him. They were a little glazed over, which was reason enough for Zayn to grab his wrist and yank him forward. "H-Hey…"

 

"You're getting my couch dirty." The first aid kit was still in the bathroom, so Zayn headed for it, Liam stumbling behind.

 

"Ha…that couch is plenty dirty already."

 

His hold on Liam tightened considerably.

 

If only Louis hadn't pulled Zayn (back) into mafia dealings after four years of trying to forget his past, he was pretty sure he'd be stuck in the same mundane cycle that he'd fallen into of university, swimming, eating, sleeping. As it was, Louis had come to him for help after being targeted, and Zayn's uncannily quick thinking, for which he was praised for by his professors, had saved Louis’ life. And then as Louis rose in prominence in his group, Zayn's apartment became a 'safe place' that Louis would send his close friends to when they needed it. Of course, it didn't hurt that the course Zayn was taking was is medical.

 

Zayn released Liam's arm and pointing at the edge of the bath tub. "Sit."

 

* * *

 

Liam had shown up a year after Zayn had gotten involved again, half a year before Zayn would graduate from university, making his way up the fire escape and knocking on the living room window. Three of his fingers were dislocated and he'd been covered in blood, a testimony to having gone up against nine men after learning they had killed someone he knew named Josh Devine, who in his clumsiness had wandered into the wrong territory.

 

* * *

 

 Liam sat obediently, idly letting blood splash onto the ceramic tiles, red contrasting harshly with bleached white. Muttering under his breath, Zayn grabbed the hand towel and shoved it at him. "Hold this to your head." Was that a knife slash across his chest? Jesus Christ, he was going to kill this idiotic, but ridiculously handsome lad if these wounds didn’t.

 

* * *

 

 "Zayn," he had greeted him when the window had been shoved open and a gun pointed in his face. "Louis told me about you. I might have killed you for what you did, but I changed my mind when he told me you saved him. Right now I'm about to die, though, so I'd appreciate some help."

 

His hold on the gun hadn't wavered. "How do I know I can trust you?"

 

The man heaved a sigh. "Louis’ so-called guilty secret is that he wants to play footie in Wembley Stadium with Arsenal." Zayn tilted his head slightly, then nodded, lowering the gun. The man clambered inside clumsily. "He's ended up swimming in blood more often than not." When he hit the floor he stumbled, and Zayn had to jump forward to catch him. "Thanks." The easy grin was belied by the angry dark bruise on his cheekbone.

 

Mopping up the blood and bandaging the gashes and scrapes had been quite a bit of work, but Zayn was the methodical sort. When he set his mind to a job, he could become so focused that only a grenade thrown through his front door would be able to distract him.

 

"Lou didn't tell me much more about you, other than that you're another of his childhood friends. The other three distanced themselves before they could get fully in this business, I heard."

 

 Zayn nodded slightly, using a pair of tweezers to pick out a bit of glass from a cut on the man's shoulder. He flinched, swearing.

 

"Don't talk much, do we love?" The taunt was only half-hearted though. If it hadn't been, Zayn would have probably dug the tweezers in a little deeper than necessary. Just because he didn't appear particularly muscular and wasn't going directly head to head with other gangs didn't mean he didn't know how to put someone out of commission.

 

"Nothing to say," he only responded shortly, finishing the extraction and cleaning the injury, before winding a bandage around it. Now came the truly painful part, made worse by the fact the bloke's adrenaline rush seemed to be dying down—he was twitching more when Zayn probed around the bandages.

 

He was going to have to wrench his dislocated fingers back into their joints.

 

Taking pity on the hunched figure before him, he handed him a wad of cloth to clench between his teeth, before taking his injured hand and gently spreading it out. "Five—four—three—" he began to count down, then yanked on the two. The man let out a muffled yell, his other hand flashing forward and locking around Zayn's wrist in a bruising grip. Zayn could almost feel his bones grinding against each other. Shit, he was strong.

 

"Let me go," Zayn said steadily, not letting pain shake his voice. He glared upwards.

 

"Oh—shit, sorry." The man released him, looking almost abashed.

 

The purple bracelet would encircle his wrist for a full week, a constant reminder of the stranger who had come in the middle of the night.

 

* * *

 

Zayn turned to the medicine cabinet and began busying himself pulling out bandages and alcohol and cotton swabs. "Thieves, this time?" he murmured.

 

Liam sounded faintly pleased, probably because Zayn had actually talked first instead of being prompted to. "Yeah. They jumped a few of our men outside Russell Square when they were transporting assets. Louis found out through some Adams that they were part of Glasgow."

 

Adams. The name was familiar—Zayn could faintly recall someone from his middle school with that last name. So Liverpudlian and Clerkenwell had an alliance, then.

 

* * *

 

 The third time the man came to his apartment—through the window, as usual—Zayn had learned his name.

 

Their encounters so far hadn't been impressive or awe-inspiring, but Payne, as Zayn came to call him, was the only one to come back repeatedly in such a short span of time. It had only been two weeks after he had first appeared that he came again as Zayn was about to go to bed, and the third time was about a month later, this time in the early hours of the morning just before the sunrise. Lou's other friends he had told about Zayn had only visited once so far—a tall, muscular guy with long, curly brown and a deep voice, and another one with bleached hair that had grown out to show dark roots.

 

This third time, the man had opened the window and slid into the place without bothering to knock, pulled the window down and then flopped onto the couch, all with Zayn watching him from the small dining table.

 

"Do you want something?" he asked eventually, finishing off the samosas on his plate. The man let out a noncommittal grunt.

 

Just then, clamouring came from below; the sound of muted, angry voices. Zayn straightened, anger flashing through him. "You better not have brought them here."

 

"I had to get somewhere safe." The man threw an arm over his face.

 

"You good as led them to me!" Zayn snapped. While he may have been passing off as a medical student, he did have definite ties with the mafia, particularly with one of the higher-ups, and had assisted them before. It would be simple enough for enemies to see his associations, and target him.

 

"Trust me, they didn't see me come up here. I'm not that obvious."

 

Zayn looked right back at the five-foot-ten man on his couch, and found that rather hard to believe. His doubt was likely clear on his face, because the man shook head. "Trust me," he repeated.

 

Trust?

 

"Look, I'll even tell you my name. Would that make things easier?"

 

Probably not. Hazel eyes narrowed.

 

"Liam Payne." He rolled around so his back was facing Zayn, and let out a deep sigh.

 

From below, the noise drifted away.

 

* * *

 

"Did you try to negotiate with them?"

 

"Yeah, as you can tell." Liam gestured to his battered body, then shrugged. " 'S'not as bad as I've gotten before, I can handle it. We got the goods back, anyway."

 

"Why did you come here, then?" Zayn knew why.

 

"Do I need a reason?"

 

* * *

 

By the fourth time, Zayn had become attuned to Liam's presence and memorised the sound Liam's feet made on his floorboards. Not heavy thumps or shuffles, but just enough weight to make them creak.

 

This time, he showed up with a dirty duffel bag which he tossed next to the couch. "Your place is pretty convenient, Zayn. It's always nearby when I need a breather."

 

Zayn emerged from the kitchen with a glass of water—for himself. "My home is not a pit stop."

 

"Oh, and in case you were wondering," Liam seated himself on the couch like he owned it, "the reason you're missing some food from the fridge was because I stopped by yesterday. You weren't here."

 

Make this the fifth time then. Zayn frowned. "You broke into my apartment?"

 

"I locked up after I left."

 

He gritted his teeth. "That's an empty excuse."

 

"It was a little unusual to see you weren't here, though, you never seem to go out."

 

Zayn went back into the kitchen to place his glass in the sink. "Maybe because you only come by at ridiculous hours."

 

"The sun's setting, this isn't a ridiculous hour," Liam called after him.

 

Louis would probably call the hour romantic. Zayn mentally scoffed at that, his friend had always been ridiculously cheesy, probably a result of all the romance novels his sisters were always reading.

 

Liam was still on the couch when he went back into the living room. "How long will your breather be for?" Zayn felt like crossing his arms in annoyance.

 

"Don't know. Back to you not being here, though, where were you?"

 

Zayn looked at him suspiciously. "Why does it matter?"

 

"Where?" He wouldn’t admit the glare that had been sent his way sent chills down his spine

 

"I was at university. Where I go every day."

 

"You know, Louis mentions you quite a bit, Zayn."

 

The sudden change in topic made Zayn blink. "So what? We're friends."

 

"I know what he's been through, and what you made him risk for your mistake." Liam's voice had hardened.

 

'Louis told me about you. I might have killed you for what you did.'

 

If Zayn was caught off guard, he didn't show it. "We've resolved things."

 

"You could still do more for him. You do know he's been ensuring your safety, don't you? Cutting off any enemy of Liverpudlian that come close to your apartment, making sure there's a few of us watching over you as you go around outside—and yes, I knew you were at university—"

 

He interrupted Liam sharply. "Why are you telling me what I already know?"

 

Liam stood up, and for the first time Zayn truly understood how imposing the man could make himself. He towered a full head above him, glaring down with force, like the pressing weight of the ocean. "You could help him out. You could do more."

 

When he left, the sun had gone down, but the sky was still a dull red.

 

* * *

 

"Everyone has a reason for what they do," Zayn countered, cutting away the tattered remains of Liam's shirt so he could wipe the blood off his chest. The gash was long, but shallow, thankfully. He wouldn't need stitches this time, but his shirt was definitely done for.

 

"Then what's your reason for putting up with me?"

 

When Zayn glanced up, Liam was smiling.

 

* * *

 

The next day, he had called Louis up, offering to look into some information he knew Liverpudlian was after.

 

A week later, he had more of a presence in the gang than he'd ever had before.

 

* * *

 

"You know my reasons." Zayn looked away, his ears warm.

 

A chuckle rumbled through Liam's body. "I wonder…"

 

They were silent for the next few minutes, during which Zayn bandaged up the wound on Liam's chest, skimming his cool fingers over the man's skin. Liam shivered, his hands flexing on the bath's edge.

 

* * *

 

Zayn was falling asleep when he heard a rattle from the living room. Instantly alert, he bolted upright in his bed, hand reaching silently for the gun under his pillow.

 

There it was—the rough scrape of the window sliding shut. Burglars? Glasgow? Zayn slipped silently out from beneath the covers, handling the gun expertly. He had taken the time to perfect his aim after he started contacting Liverpudlian more often.

 

Creak.

 

He crept forward, pressing his back up against the wall beside the closed bedroom door, and placed his hand on the handle.

 

Creak.

 

His brow furrowed. No…it couldn't be.

 

He twisted the handle, thankful nothing squeaked, and gradually pulled the door open.

 

Creak.

 

There was the possibility it was Liam, but all things considered, to Zayn, it wasn't very likely. Being distrustful of the world was a thousand times easier—and safer—than blindly accepting whatever was in front of him.

 

Thump.

 

Now that was definitely the sound of something hitting the couch. Zayn swallowed, readying himself, and burst through the opening, his gun held in front of him. "Don't move."

 

And then he felt cold metal touch to his temple.

 

He tensed up instantly, every nerve singing in alarm. Suddenly his heart was pounding in his chest and he realised that there was nobody on the couch, nothing there except for a duffel bag. A very familiar duffel bag.

 

He lowered his arms but refused to lose his rigid stance. "Payne."

 

A low laugh. "I'm not that stupid, Zayn." The gun lifted away from his head.

 

Zayn turned slowly, shifting his weight so he was poised to dart backwards, if need be. "Why are you here?"

 

It was the seventh time.

 

Liam shrugged—a habit Zayn had come to associate him with. "What if I said it was my day off?"

 

"Mafia don't have days off."

 

"No, they don't." He twirled the gun around his finger and stuck it into his baggy pocket. Zayn remembered he had never heard the click of the safety being switched off. So Liam had been messing with him.

 

The realisation annoyed him more than he thought it would.

 

"Mind if I crashed here?" Liam flopped onto the couch without waiting for an answer, kicking the bag so it fell off to one side.

 

Yes, I do mind. "Get out."

 

"Oh?" Liam turned to squint at him. Even though it was dark, Zayn still thought he could make out those unusual eyes that gave people of a false sense gentleness. "You've been fine with it before."

 

That was when you actually needed help. "Leave."

 

"…No."

 

Zayn gritted his teeth and raised the gun to point at the figure lying before him, making sure the sound of the safety being snapped off was very loud and very obvious. "Get out of my apartment." Why was his blood burning so much?

 

At the sound, Liam lifted his head and seemed to fixate on the gun's barrel. "Are you going to shoot me, Zayn?"

 

"Not if you go."

 

Liam moved faster than Zayn was prepared for. A blur in the darkness, he was suddenly in front of him, grabbing his wrist and twisting it, and forcing him back a step. Zayn's hand twitched once, twice, then the gun fell from his fingers.

 

He gasped a little from the pain shooting up his arm, and glared up at Liam. What does he think he's doing?

 

Liam opened his mouth, but Zayn never heard what he was going to say, because he was already moving, springing to the side and throwing up his leg so it connected with the side of Liam's head. The latter staggered to the side, letting him go.

 

"Should've been expecting that, I guess…" His hand was cupped to his face, tongue sliding over the corner of his lips to lick away some blood. "Louis did say you were good at hand-to-hand."

 

Zayn was still poised on the balls of his feet, prepared to strike back if he needed to. When Liam didn't look up, he chanced to glance at the ground for the gun.

 

A rustle of clothes was all the warning he had before a fist pounded into his jaw, sending him tripping backwards. He barely recovered his balance in time to dart aside, avoiding the jab that was aimed at his gut.

 

Any remaining traces of tiredness had vanished in the face of a fight. Zayn's breath came in quick, harsh gasps as he dodged Liam's blows, feeling his overwhelming presence rather than seeing the shadow that towered above him. Sensing an oncoming punch, he slid out of the way just far enough so he was out of range, but Liam's knuckles still grazed ever so lightly against his cheek.

 

Zayn landed a few hits of his own, each one satisfyingly causing Liam to let out a hiss of pain. Still, what he lacked in agility he made up for in brute strength, easily knocking Zayn back several steps when he made contact.

 

And then Zayn's back hit the wall, and he realised how foolish he had been.

 

Liam's arms came slamming down on either side of him, pinning him where he stood. Both of them were panting heavily. The light that filtered through the gap in the curtains lit the sweat rolling down Liam's cheek, shone off the junction between his neck and shoulder.

 

The air was charged with electricity that flickered between them, and undeniable heat that was settling into Zayn's bones. His chin lifted, and he said the first thing that came to his mind.

 

"I don't like to be used."

 

He almost didn't recognise his own voice, breathless from rasping in the air. Liam said nothing, his chest still heaving, his eyes hooded and dark. Zayn felt something shudder low in his stomach.

 

Say something.

 

Liam continued to study him, the atmosphere growing thicker by the second.

 

Do something— "Mmph!"

 

He wasn't sure who moved first; all he knew was that their mouths had crushed together in a bruising, open-mouthed kiss, all teeth and tongue and saliva, messy and painful but all-consuming. He wasn't sure if he was breathing anymore. He might have even forgotten how to breathe. Liam's arms had gone from caging him in, to one hand pulling the back of his neck forward, the other clamped around the small of his back, and Zayn's own fingers were intertwined in Liam's messy dark hair, yanking him closer closer closer.

 

Their tongues slid against each other, pressing and slipping and sliding, and Liam's groan deep in the back of his throat had Zayn kissing him even harder. His leg slotted between Zayn's thighs, a heavy hot pressure against his hardening dick; Zayn was unable to stop his hips from canting forward and immediately flushed heavily with embarrassment. "P-Payne"

 

"Liam," Liam growled against his lips, and a rush of burning pleasure bolted straight to Zayn's groin. "Call me Liam."

 

* * *

 

Zayn finished with the wounds below the neck, and turned his attention to the cut that opened Liam's eyebrow. The towel Liam was holding there was already stained bright red, but then again, head wounds always looked worse than they were, Zayn reasoned. He motioned for Liam to lower his arm, and pressed a fresh towel to the cut.

 

So intent he was, it took a while for him to feel Liam's eyes boring into him. Once he noticed it, it became steadily more and more distracting, until he was physically fighting not to meet the man's gaze. "Quit it." He lifted the towel, checking the cut. A bit longer. "I'm trying to concentrate."

 

Gentle fingers on his cheek made him jolt. A slow smile spread across Liam's face. "You look good when you're focused on something."

 

Zayn's futile attempt to fight a blush didn't go unnoticed, judging by the way the smile twisted to a teasing smirk. "Then you should stop getting in the way."

 

"But you look better when you're flustered."

 

Shi— Zayn retreated a little, narrowing his eyes and trying to ignore the way his body was responding to the rumble of Liam's voice. But Liam didn't appear to be having any of it—he reached out with his free hand, his fingers traced a swirling pattern over Zayn's jawline, reaching further back so he could cup his face. "I should really come by more often." His thumb brushed gently underneath Zayn's eye, feeling his impossibly long eyelashes flutter.

 

When focused on him, that chocolate brown gaze had the power of freezing Zayn in his tracks. Especially so when they were darkened with intent, but also when they were soft—he dared call it affectionate. The acknowledgement sometimes scared him more than any threat on his life.

 

I want you to be here more often. "It's your choice."

 

"Do you want me to?"

 

Yes. "Like I said, it's your choice." Zayn lifted away his hand, which held the dry towel to Liam's head, and began to clean the gash with a damp cloth. The blood caught onto the white fibres and redness blossomed like a rose.

 

* * *

 

"Liam's taken a liking to you, Zayn." Louis had chosen just the right time to call.

 

"Mm." He could feel the aforementioned person's warm breath on the back of his neck, giving him goosebumps. Visit fourteen.

 

"You don't have to worry, he's not careless; he wouldn't reveal where you are."

 

"No, I wouldn't," Liam murmured, quiet enough so his voice wouldn't reach the phone, and his hand slipped over Zayn's hip to caress the inside of Zayn's thigh.

 

His sharp intake of breath caught Louis’ attention.

 

"You alright?"

 

"F-Fin—" Zayn cut himself off so he wouldn't gasp out loud as Liam's finger trailed lightly over his head. "I have to go," he forced out, mashing the 'end call' on his phone's screen, and tossing it aside. "Don't do that when I'm talking to people," he muttered.

 

"You won't be talking now," Liam said, his words sounding like a promise, and he took a firm hold on Zayn's dick.

 

* * *

 

 "For a doctor, you can be kind of—" Liam stopped halfway through his sentence with a short laugh. "Never mind."

 

Zayn flicked him on the head, not enough to hurt, just enough to sting. Liam winced but didn't release his hold. "You're getting blood on my face," Zayn admonished.

 

* * *

 

Their 'relationship' had started off as sex, but over time the touches became lingering and the smiles became warmer, the kisses longer and deeper. It hit Zayn somewhat belatedly when he was lost in the feel of Liam's lips, surprisingly soft for all they looked to be chapped. The way Liam's arms were holding him so close made him want to melt—and it was then he realised it wasn't just about sexual satisfaction anymore. Far from it.

 

He pulled back—a little difficult, given he was buried under the heavy weight of arousal and Liam's body—and observed him for a long moment. Liam looked back somewhat curiously, his eyes half-lidded, lazy dark brown glinting out from under even darker lashes. "Something wrong?" His lips were pulled in a small smile, ruby-red and a little shiny.

 

He's—I'm—I couldn't—

 

Zayn swallowed, to his embarrassment, quite audibly. "I—"

 

Liam's eyes traced him, then widened momentarily. "Fuck," he said ruefully, before dipping his head to mouth at the hollow of Zayn's throat.

 

* * *

 

 "What would you do if I said that looked good on you too? Kind of hot."

 

Zayn raised his eyebrow, pushing Liam's hand away. "How much blood have you lost?"

 

"If only your hair was all messed up, the way it gets when—ouch!"

 

"Don't move." Zayn pressed the antiseptic-doused cotton swab a little harder onto the cut, then made quick work of putting on the right dressings. By the end of it, Liam's blood-matted hair was sticking up at the front in odd angles from the makeshift cotton bandage-headband. The coverings on his powerful chest were stark white against his skin.

 

"Done." Zayn leant back on his heels, surveying his work with a critical eye. It was done well, and Liam wasn't the type to go picking at his bandages the minute after they'd been put on, like that lanky, curly-haired bloke that had come to Zayn's the week before.

 

Unexpectedly, Liam grabbed his hand and pressed it to his lips. "M'gonna keep coming back, you know."

 

Zayn's breath caught in his throat. He looked aside quickly, his cheeks burning. "Do I?"

 

"Yeah. And," he added, getting to his feet somewhat clumsily, "you won't try to stop me. It's our choice, after all."

 

Zayn helped the stumbling lad to the bedroom, feeling warm underneath the strong arm over his shoulder, and smiled to himself.

 

Our choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how was it?? you like?? i hope so, but goodnight my loves thank you again so much i appreciate each and every one of you!


	18. under the spotlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> based off of the tacky reality show, Dating in the Dark since it's an interesting concept
> 
> also, Louis is slightly older in this one!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooo, guess who's back? sorry for being away so long, in all honesty my itch for writing disappeared and i didn't want to serve you half-assed stories but now that the itch is back so am i! please enjoy, sorry for any grammatical errors! x

It's a dating thing, like speed dating, but, not.

 

Basically, they make you do a bunch of questionnaires, then a computer matches you up with someone else, and you meet them in a dark room; meaning, you can't see them at all. You go on dates, and then eventually, you see how each one looks. You're given the chance to either walk away. Or to meet them.

...

...

...

“You have a time limit of an hour, no sex allowed and no exchanges of personal information: i.e addresses, phone numbers, emails, etc. There is surveillance but we will not be able to hear you. Do you agree to these terms?” A man in a sharp suit walks beside a now flustered Zayn, cheeks tinted with his embarrassment as he gives a small nod of consent.

 

It seems to satisfy the worker, as he pushes up his rectangular glasses and nods back, opening the door in front of them and gives the boy a small push into the room, leaving with a mumble of, “Good luck.”

 

"Shit, it's dark in here." Zayn mutters as he stumbles into the room, pitch black, actually, he can't see his own hand right in front of his face, doesn't know whether he's blinking or not. He reaches his hand out in front of him, until he reaches a table, someone grips his hand blindly, causing him to jump and let out a small (manly) squeak.

 

"Well, yeah mate, it's a dark room for a reason," the voice is firm, but teasing, and Zayn relaxes at the raspy tone of it, as the man helps him sit across the table from him. "So, I'm Louis Tomlinson, what's your name?"

 

"I'm Zayn Malik."

 

"How old are you? You sound young?"

 

"I sound young? How could I possibly sound young? Your voice breaks during puberty and it doesn't change much in octaves as you get older. Only birds would be able to detect the subtle change, frequencies like that are almost impossible for humans to hear." The younger of the two rambles, knowledge from his sixth-form-bio class suddenly flooding back to him.

 

There's silence for a moment and Zayn’s afraid he’s gone and scared the bloke off already, before Louis laughs, it’s loud but welcome. "Alright babe, damn, so you're a genius, and I'm gonna guess you're....24."

 

"22, actually."

 

"22? Shit, why would they set you up with me then?"

 

Zayn can almost see his frown in the darkness now that his eyes have adjusted, and only hopes Louis can't see his flush, "How old are you?"

 

"I'm 29."

 

"That's nothing," Zayn assures him, "7 years, with a ratio of 4:5, plus we had a personality that was complementary to 93%, which is exceedingly high, so I don't mind the age, unless you do? You want someone more experienced?"

 

"No!" Louis says quickly, and the voice is rough and heavily-accented, and Zayn wonders what part of the UK he’s from, he sounds like he might be a bit further south than Bradford. "That's fine with me, if it's fine with you, _kid_." He could just imagine the smirk on the other’s face.

...

...

...

They meet for more dates, and Zayn's sure he's fallen hard. They've grown accustomed to hugging each other, and Zayn can feel lean muscles of an athlete beneath the thin fabrics of Louis’ shirts. They're about the same height, but Louis feels strong and beautiful.

 

"I want to see you in the light," Louis says during one of their dates, and Zayn stiffens. He's pretty sure he loves this man, and Zayn would like to think Louis likes him too- they've met on enough dates. But Zayn knows he won't care what Louis looks like.

 

"Why?"

 

"Because," Louis chuckles, a raspy sound Zayn has also come to love, "I want us to be able to go out for dates, become a proper couple," he takes Zayn's hand after searching for it carelessly. "I want to see what you look like it. Want to know who I love kissing."

 

Kissing, horrendously awkward at first, with fumbling and trying to find each other’s lips, but once they'd got it sorted, it was nice. Made Zayn’s entire body hot. "I guess," Zayn whispers, and he feels terrible because he knows that this is his last date with Louis. The older man won't want him after he's seen him. Not to say that Louis is shallow, he's not, if Zayn's learnt anything about him, it's that he's the farthest from shallow, if only misunderstood. But love, contrary to popular belief, is not blind. And it's incredibly difficult to have a serious relationship with zero sexual attraction.

...

...

...

It's almost nice how the light reveal works.

 

The two of them stand on opposite sides of the dark room, underneath spot lights that will light on them one at a time, so the other person can see you, but you can't see them. Zayn's thankful for that, he'd hate to see Louis laugh at him.

 

Louis's spotlight lights first.

 

And Zayn's heart breaks.

 

He's beautiful. Zayn already loved him but now- he can see that the chances are even slimmer than before. He's a bit taller than Zayn, fit, dressed in dark-washed jeans and a V-neck shirt that emphasises his muscles and showcasing his plethora of tattoos. Eternally youthful face with slight scruff decorating his jaw, hair messy but in a purposeful way, falling into those gorgeous sky blue eyes, and he's smiling, trying to be reassuring even though he's the one up for cut. His smile is perfect. Everything about him is absolutely breathtaking, and then Louis's light goes off, plunging the room into darkness once more.

 

Zayn stares at the ground, hugging himself, and feels his spotlight turn on, can feel his skin soaking up the light, it feels like the longest- most excruciating moment of his life, and then when the light goes off, they both have to leave the room through separate doors.

...

...

...

Now, they're given a choice.

 

They can meet, or they can walk away.

 

Zayn sits on the sofa in one of the lobbies rubbing his knees nervously, thinking. "I should meet, I should meet him." But then he shakes his head, "And set myself when he won't be there- but I'm stronger than that, what's one more rejection? Go in there, expecting the worst. Although...if I really did expect the worst, I wouldn't be going in there...ugh..." He buries his face in his hands, feeling like a love sick teenger all over again, before shaking his head.

 

He can't do it. He can’t.

...

...

...

Louis waits in the room anxiously.

 

He's said he'd meet Zayn and now he stands at the balcony looking at the door outside the building, and the door in the room. If Zayn walks through the door outside the building, he's chosen not to meet Louis, and the Doncaster lad has to watch him walk away, but if he walks through the door inside the room, they can meet properly. And then they can be together.

 

Louis smiles as he remembers seeing his genius for the first time. Lithe, lanky, and utterly adorable, with an undercut and inky curls to top it off. Dressed in a denim jacket over a cream coloured shirt, could catch a bit of ink peeking out from under the collar, and deliciously tight jeans. He has caramel skin and Louis knows it would look perfect tangled with his own. He remembers wishing that the kid would look up, he wanted to see more of that face, more than just those dangerously sharp cheekbones and three-day-old stubble, but he kept looking down, hiding the colour of his eyes. Louis thinks they're brown or green. He hopes for the former, but he'll take either.

 

The door opens.

 

Outside.

 

Louis' heart- he swears it tears open as he sees the kid, head down, walking away, and he can't help himself from calling out, "Zayn!"

 

The kid jumps, turning, looking around blindly until he looks up and sees Louis leaning over the side, "Yeah?"

 

Yeah? That's all the bloke has to say? But Louis can see his eyes now, golden brown, stunningly hazel. "Pretty boy..." he leans over, unable to stop his voice from breaking, "Why didn't you want to meet?"

 

"Wait-what?" Zayn splutters, "You mean you're waiting for me?" He sounds so incredulous and disbelieving that Louis doesn't think he's making a joke.

 

"Of course I am, why wouldn't I be?"

 

"Because, I..." Zayn stops, unable to come up with a reason and feeling incredibly thick, and as Louis looks down, it dawns on him. The younger boy thought he would walk because Louis didn't find him attractive. It tugs at something inside of him, and he's yelling at Zayn to wait there, as he rushes down, practically sprinting, out into the cold air. Zayn's still standing there, more shocked than anything else when Louis pulls him in for a tight hug.

 

"So stupid for a genius," Louis whispers, face buried in the soft curls and all Zayn can do is hug back.

 

He feels the smaller lad’s shoulders slump, "You were gonna meet me?"

 

"Of course." he says without hesitation, and Zayn feels a new surge of confidence shoot through him, as he kisses Louis softly

 

"Sorry, for running away, I mean." The pink that dusts Zayn’s high cheekbones all the way to the tip of his ears is delicious.

 

Louis chuckles, "It's alright, just don't ever do it again, pretty boy,"

 

"I won't."

  
And it's a promise he never breaks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope this lived up to its potential, thank you all for being patient!


	19. the only pie here is pie charts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the only thing they really agreed on was the hyphenation; Horan-Malik

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a small one to lighten the mood because we all know Niall would be the one to suggest the most bizarre wedding ideas
> 
> apologies for any grammatical errors!

It was a lazy Friday afternoon, following an uneventful case at work, and now Niall and Zayn, were making out happily on Zayn's couch.

 

After some coaxing, Zayn had straddled Niall and was now whimpering and writhing, grinding down instinctively, his hands slid under Niall's shirt to trace his fingers over the trail of light hair that led down beneath his waistline, as one of Niall's hands was tangled in Zayn's hair, his thumb behind the shell of his ear, stroking softly, and the other was low on Zayn's narrow hip, encouraging him to get more friction. Niall swore loudly, as Zayn gave a particularly skilled swivel of his hips at the same time he nipped Niall's bottom lip.

 

"Fuck, Zee," he hissed, leaning his head back, so that Zayn could nuzzle happily into his neck. Niall chuckled, "You look like ya’ could purr,"

 

"I could," Zayn grinned, rolling off Niall to lie across the sofa happily, he closed his eyes and reached up blindly, before grasping Niall's hands. "We're engaged," he stated, elongating everything, and sounding incredibly pleased with himself, "I made that happen, you know?"

 

Niall laughed, and kissing Zayn's fingertips one at a time before touching his lips the gold band on his ring finger that match his own, softly, admiring the sleepy artist. "I do know. You're very brave, love."

 

"As ridiculous as it sounds since I despise maths, I did a pie chart," Zayn yawned, rolling onto his side, so his nose was buried in Niall's muscled, yet soft stomach. "Of what your responses would be. 38% yes, 27% no, 17.5% we should wait, and 17.5% you laugh in my face,"

 

"Christ, Zee," the blonde frowned, "Where on earth did ya’ get those statistics?"

 

"A dream," he snorted tiredly, "I did the pie chart in a dream." His fingers curled in Niall's shirt, in such an innocent, childlike gesture that it took the Irish lad’s breath away. "But it was more like fifty-fifty, right?"

 

"One hundred to nothing, idiot," he whispered, running his fingers through Zayn's hair, "I'm gonna wear a blue tux-"

 

"You're gonna wear a black tux-" The latter corrected.

 

"-We're gonna have pie instead of cake."

 

"We're gonna have normal cake-"

 

"We're gonna have a giant firework display and play Fifa."

 

"We'll have a first dance."

 

Niall laughed, bright and boisterous as ever, "Well babe, sounds like ya’ got this whole thing figured out. Do I get any say?"

 

"Sure," Zayn smiled, half asleep already, "You get to say I do."

 

"And I will," Niall promised, "One hundred to nothing Zayn soon-to-be Horan."

  
"Hundred to nothing, Niall soon-to-be Malik." Zayn repeated, and finally succumbed to sleep. Niall carded his fingers through soft, silky black hair, before he too drifted off, his last thought? He was having a blue tuxedo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short and sweet, yeah? hope you enjoyed reading as much as i enjoyed writing, love you all xx


	20. in another life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warning: this does contain some sensitive material such as racism and violence so please be cautious !! it's not very graphic but it does mention some hard times, but other than that please enjoy x

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the year 3434, Liam Payne slides the memory stick into the small incision on his arm, and nods at the sales clerk. "Alright," Zayn watches the memory stick download, and when it's complete, he beams, pulling it out "Congratulations, mate! You can now operate an aircraft!"
> 
> "Awesome," Liam claps his hands, examining the other memory sticks, "How much to know how to make the perfect omelette?"
> 
> "Only €2, we're having a special offer."
> 
> Liam nods, and Zayn pulls it out of the glass casing, "How much can you do?"
> 
> "I was created to have an eidetic memory," Zayn grinned, downloading to data into the brunettes mind, "I don't need the memory sticks for knowledge, but I'm saving up for the €2,000 chip, so that I can do physical stuff, like...running."
> 
> Liam laughs, the bloke looking so embarrassed he finds himself ruffling silky, black hair with his free hand, "How about we go out for a movie tonight?" Zayn nods, shyly, "They just opened a new theatre on the moon, we can take the 19:45 shuttle,"
> 
> "Sounds good," Zayn flushes beautifully, scurrying away before Liam can make his blush even more.

(1)

In 1912, Zayn Malik kisses his boyfriend as the boat fills with water. "I love you," he whispers, again and again, and Liam whispers it back, reverently, like a prayer, holding the smaller lad tightly against his chest. Like their last prayer. "I love you, I love you, I love you," the water sloshes, and it's ice cold, Zayn can't tell where the boat hit the iceberg, or why it wasn't seen, but none of that matters now. The only thing that matters is Liam Payne, and his sweet, sweet, warm lips. Just before the water catches their chins, Zayn whispers it again, too cold for tears now, "I love you."

(2)

In 1917, Liam Payne, a British soldier, is fighting in the trenches. Bombs drop and shatter all around him, as he charges forward, gun in hand, metal helmet tight against his head, but he wouldn't have it any other way. He roars against the sound of bullets and the hail of fire, and he knows he is running to his death while fighting for his country. He pulls a photo out of his pocket, of a boy who looks like a greek god himself, his love. He kisses the picture, dirtying it with muck and mud, before tucking it back in, near his heart, and crying out, gun taking a life of it's own, he hears his fellow soldiers running along side him, and knows this is the last thing they will ever do together.

(3)

In 1936, Berlin, Germany, Zayn Malik hugs his boyfriend, who just finished first in the 300 metre Olympics. They're hiding in the back room, and Liam's slick with sweat, kissing breathlessly down Zayn's neck causing the older one to writhe happily. "How's it feel to have a boyfriend with a gold medal?"

 

"Same as having a boyfriend without one," Zayn chimes, pressed up against the cold tiles of the showers, kissing Liam languidly, with more tongue, "Though I am incredibly proud of you." 

 

Liam grinds against him, before stepping away, grinning, "You'll show me how proud when we get home, right?"

 

Zayn rolls his eyes, but nods.

(4)

In 1943, Zayn Malik, a German doctor finds a jewish male in his late teens bleeding out as he travels through the fields destroyed by war, also on the verge of death from starvation, because it was thought he might 'taint' others. Zayn refuses to accept the racism, and he appears to hover over Liam Payne like an angel, whispering words of reassurance as he stitches up his leg. He tells him his name, tells him stories of the people he’s helped, and in return Liam explains how his family was captured and separated, and somehow managed to escape to look for his sisters. And when Liam's an old man, he looks back and he thinks about the doctor, as he strives for anti-racism campaigns, he tells his followers about the German doctor who went against all odds and saved his life when no one else would, and it fuels his support. Even in death, Zayn is helping the fight for equality.

(5)

In 1964, Liam Payne's a police officer, asked to stop a student protest. He scoffs, student protest, it's just a bunch of hippies crying out against the wrong of the Vietnam War. He holds a large water hose, ready to fire at them, when he sees a young man, caramel skin, dark hair, and rich if his clothes are anything to go by. The kind of lad who has no reason to throw everything away and wear flowers in the shape of a crown on his head, holding up a 'Make Love, not War' peace sign, he meets Liam's eyes, and suddenly...he can't find it in him to turn on the hose. He yells at the crowd to disperse, but they don't. In fact, the gorgeous kid holding the sign is given a megaphone, and then he’s yelling about the wrongs being done. The other police men get tired of Liam’s hesitance, and set dogs and tear gas at the crowds, Liam watches the kid, who called himself 'Miraculous Malik', get protected by a mirage of people, and he's unsure whether he really is a defender of justice after all.

(6)

In 2001, on the 11th of September, eleven-year-old Liam Payne watches as the second plane crashes into the World Trade Center in America through the BBC news. He feels numb for the rest of the day, schooling being released early, and when he comes home it’s to his best friend and now boyfriend, crying his eyes out. Liam rushes to gather the beautiful boy into his arms, murmuring soothing words into his ear, and it’s only then he notices the suitcase by Zayn’s feet.  

 

“Zayn, love, what’s going on?” The brunette coaxes, pulling back to take Zayn’s cheeks between warm palms, but the other refuses to meet his eyes. Between sobs and hiccups, the half-pakistani lad explains how they’re deporting his family, can’t take a chance of the risk. 

 

“It’s not fair Li, I don’t wanna go… I wanna be with you!” Slim, ink stained fingers curl into Liam’s shirt, holding him close and the other places his hands on top, trying to stop the shaking. They stand there for what seems like hours until Zayn’s father comes to pick him up, and with a heavy heart Liam chases after their car promising to find Zayn after this all blows over. Looking down the now empty road, the sight of Zayn’s car long since disappeared, knows what he's seeing is wrong, some disastrous horror movie because that...that destruction, and terror, and heartbreak...that can't be real.

(7)

In 2016, Zayn and Liam lie beside each other in bed, watching old Batman animations, eating semi-burnt cream cheese muffins. "Do you think-" Zayn asks, mouth full before he swallows, "-That we're together in parallel universes? Or...do you think there are different versions of us drifting through time? Always meeting? Falling in love?"

 

Liam blinks at the radical subject change, but shrugs because this boy’s brilliant mind is always somewhere else, "Nah. I think we're here, and we're now, and we love each other, so it's all that matters,"

 

Zayn chuckles, kissing Liam's neck over the coffee-stained birthmark, "You just don't like thinking about Quantum Physics."

 

Liam laughs, hands firm on Zayn's waist, here, as in all realities, "Well, you got me there, baby boy, you got me there."

 

And Zayn does.

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize for any grammar errors! I hope you enjoyed :)


End file.
